Maverick
by Bookwyrm
Summary: There's a new student at Bayville High: Jeff McGovern. He's smart. He's funny. He can hold his own in a fight. Oh, and he's also apparently immune to mutant powers. Has Rogue met the one boy she can actually touch?
1. Issue 1: Brave New World: A New Face

_X-Men, X-Men: Evolution_, and all characters, concepts, and material of the X-Men franchise are copyrighted property of Marvel and its affiliates. Their use in this story is entirely without permission and not for profit.

All original material belongs to the author of this fanfic.

* * *

X-Men: Evolution

_  
Maverick_ #1:  
Brave New World, Part 1

_A New Face_

by  
Bookwyrm

Fighting Is a Great Way to Meet New Friends.

* * *

Bayville High was a typical American public high school: it looked and felt like a prison. Most of the time its halls were empty and silent. Right now, however, it was the hourly migration of students from one class to another. 

For Marie D'Ancanto, better known as Rogue, it was the absolute worst thing about school.

Rogue hunched over the books and papers she carried, doing her best not to touch anyone. She hung back behind a gaggle of cheerleaders holding up the flow, looking for a way around them.

"Hey, move it," came a boy's voice from behind her. She felt a jab in her lower back, and she flinched away.

"Don't touch me!" Rogue snapped, turning her head slightly. She saw a Bayville Hawks jacket out of the corner of her eye. _Great. One of the almighty football players._

"I said move it, dyke!" The boy shoved her, and Rogue stumbled. Her stuff went flying forward, hitting two of the cheerleaders. They squawked in indignation. Rogue whirled to see one of the linebackers smirking at her as he reached out to push her out of his way.

He was completely unprepared for what Rogue did next. Her left arm snapped up to grab his wrist, twisting it to one side while pressing down with her thumb, hard. He stiffened at the unexpected pain, but Rogue wasn't done. Her right arm swept forward, slamming one gloved fist into his solar plexus. The linebacker doubled over, his breath a strangled gasp. The crowd around them, its members seeing what was going on, backed off to give them room.

"Oh, it's that goth girl," said one of the cheerleaders behind Rogue. She sounded artfully disinterested, as if she were watching grass grow.

All the frustration that had been building up was now boiling to the surface. _To hell with the rules_, Rogue thought She drew her hand back for another strike.

As she did, someone grabbed her wrist, barely avoiding her bare skin. Rogue caught sight of another boy out of the corner of her eye, probably another member of the football team coming to his friend's aid. Letting go of the linebacker's wrist, Rogue twisted around, bringing her knee up to hit the newcomer in the groin. It was a move she had rehearsed with Logan many times, and she moved with the speed and ease of long practice.

But the other boy simply shifted his weight, bringing his right leg up at just the right moment to block Rogue's strike before it gathered enough speed. Surprised, she looked up to see her own face, reflected twice in a pair of wrap-around mirrored sunglasses.

"Stop it," he hissed. Rogue couldn't recognize him. "I'm trying to help you here."

Rogue blinked. The incongruity seemed almost funny, despite the moment. _Help? Me? Why me?_

The boy looked at the football player. "You. Move on."

The player forced himself out of his surprise and sneered at the newcomer. "Tough guy, huh?"

"Get out of here," the boy repeated.

The player hesitated, but a moment later he just smirked and flipped the newcomer off. He started walking off, deliberately stepping on Rogue's spilled papers. Rogue tried twisting out of the boy's grip, but he held firm and Rogue couldn't risk touching him skin to skin. Seeing her struggle, the football player smirked and twisted one foot to tear the papers underneath him.

The distinctive voice of Principal Kelly rang out in the hall. "What's going on here?"

Rogue immediately stopped struggling. Several members of the crowd suddenly seemed to remember they had other places to be, though the majority remained to watch the show. The boy let go of Rogue's arm, though he didn't move away from her.

The principal pushed through the students and caught sight of Rogue. "Ah, Miss D'Ancanto," he said, looking her over. "Why am I not surprised? What have you been up to this time?"

"It was just a misunderstanding, sir," said the boy with the sunglasses. "This gentleman" -- the very lack of emphasis made the word a peculiar insult -- "bumped into the lady and she thought it was deliberate."

Rogue almost snorted. Kelly was no idiot; she had to give the devil his due on that one. Even so, as long as he didn't have testimony to the contrary, Kelly couldn't do anything to her.

Sure enough, Kelly looked annoyed and more than a little frustrated. The man had a sore spot for any Institute student, and to be this close to coming down on her had to be grating on his nerves. Fortunately, the warning bell rang at that moment, and Kelly looked at the crowd. "Get to your classes!" he ordered.

The crowd began to disperse, some members more reluctant than others. Kelly looked at the football player. "Well?" he prompted.

"Accident," the player told him, smirking at Rogue.

Kelly paused, looking at the ripped and soiled papers under the player's foot. "Then you can go, Larry." The principal turned to Rogue. "Trouble-making again?"

"It was an accident," Rogue said, mentally gritting her teeth. "I thought he was attacking me." It was even true. In fact, as she thought about it, she realized that the stranger with the glasses hadn't lied either, only exaggerated. A lot.

"Try to keep your temper under control, young lady." He started to walk away. "And clean up your mess."

Rogue glared at his back. "I really hate that guy."

"He seems to return the love," the stranger said. He bent over and started picking up Rogue's books and papers.

Rogue joined him, feeling uncomfortable. She had lost her temper, and the Professor was going to have a talk with her about it. It was impossible to keep things from him. At least this guy stopped her from beating up a linebacker. That would have been a little hard to explain.

"Um . . . thanks." Rogue said, not meeting his eyes. She brushed one of her white locks of hair out of her eyes. "For keeping me out of trouble."

"Not a problem. I'm just glad I could help." He picked up the ripped papers. "Sorry about this, though."

Rogue sighed. "Not your fault. But I wish he'd ripped something else."

He flipped the papers over and looked at the heading. "Ah. English paper. Dated today."

"Yeah. I'll have to try to rewrite it in class. I hope I can get it done in time."

"You don't have it on a flash drive?"

"No. I don't have one."

He tilted his head. "Want some help, then?"

"What d'you mean?"

"I've got the next period free. I can type it up for you."

The bell rang. Rogue was going to be late as it was. She didn't want to ask him for it, but if he could do it, it might save her grade. She was supposed to turn in a typewritten sheet anyway, and she'd have to skip lunch to do that.

"Meet me at lunch," she said quickly, deciding to go for it. "The table in the far corner."

"I'll be there."

* * *

Rogue exited the kitchen line, tray in hand, and spotted him at her usual table. He was reading a book instead of eating. Actually, he didn't even have a tray. 

She stopped without thinking, looking him over; she hadn't had much time in the hall. He was still wearing those mirrored sunglasses, which was unusual. The only person she knew who wore sunglasses inside was Scott -- though of course, he had to.

It wasn't the only thing that reminded her of Scott. His build was the same as well. It had the same solid but unobtrusive look that the other boy had. Scott kept in shape with Logan's special brand of martial arts; from the way this boy had kept a hold on her arm and blocked her strike, Rogue wouldn't be surprised to find he did the same sort of thing.

_Why did he help me?_ she wondered. He looked like he should be in the popular crowd. Bit of a sandy-blond, a hint of freckles, good clothes, good-looking, fit, and cool shades. He didn't look like a walking billboard for big-name brands, but he was a far cry from Rogue's look, with her torn clothes and leather gloves and black lipstick. And especially the weird white locks on her hair and her freaky color-changing eyes.

_I wonder if he knows that by helping me he's pretty much doomed himself socially?_ Rogue thought to herself. _Maybe I shouldn't sit with him. I don't want him punished for just being nice. I should just get my paper and go sit someplace else. But this is the last table. Oh, I wish Risty weren't on that trip of hers!_

"You going to sit down?" he said suddenly, not looking up. Or maybe he was; Rogue couldn't see where his eyes were pointed.

"Um . . . yeah. Sorry." Rogue sat down on his left. _Oh well. So much for that idea._

He chuckled and put down his book -- it was called _Mindhunter_, Rogue noticed. He pulled a stapled sheaf of paper from a black bag at his feet. "Here you go. Verbatim, except for four mistakes I corrected."

"What were they?"

"One spelling, two grammar, one misnamed citation."

"Which citation?"

"The one you attributed to _Macbeth_. That was actually _Hamlet_. When in doubt, any Shakespeare quote that sounds morose and depressing like that is usually _Hamlet._"

"Oh. Um, thanks." She hesitated a moment. "Um, what's your name?"

He gave her a crooked smile. "I was wondering when you'd ask. Jeff McGovern." He held his hand out, and she took it in her own gloved one.

"Rogue," she said. _Wait, I recognize that name. He sits in the back in physics class, right?_

"Not what's on your paper." He smirked. "Mother not like you?"

Rogue tried to keep the image of her real mother out of her head. "What's that supposed to mean?" she said, irritated.

Jeff shrugged. "Sorry. Movie and book quotes are a weakness of mine. _Top Gun_, Tom Cruise introducing himself as 'Maverick' to a woman who says that."

"Oh." Movie quotes. Not his fault he's reminded her of "Mom."

To change the subject, she asked, "Where's your food?"

"I ate during my free period."

"So early?" Rogue's lunch hour started at eleven, which she thought was too soon to work up much of an appetite.

"I normally have about four meals a day. Waiting until the normal lunch hour makes me too hungry. I actually tried to get a class for this period, but the administration wouldn't let me."

"For someone who eats so much, you look pretty good." Oops. That had sort of slipped out. Rogue fought a blush, but fortunately Jeff didn't seem to be looking at her face.

"Thanks. I've got a rather fast metabolism, so the extra calories don't really build up."

"I'm jealous."

Jeff made a show of looking her up and down, another of those crooked smiles on his lips. "If you say so."

This time Rogue really did blush. She wasn't used to people being this friendly with her. It made her uncomfortable. She'd always had to keep people at a distance, leading to the way she dressed. Jeff didn't seem put off by the way she looked, though.

"Why did you help me?" she blurted.

Jeff shrugged again. "I didn't want to see you put someone in the hospital, even if he started it."

Rogue blinked. "The hospital?" _How'd he know?_

"Marie -- sorry, I mean Rogue. I saw the way you moved. He's well-muscled, but you weren't playing football. You know how to fight. He only knows how to be a bully."

_Oh. Of course. He doesn't know about . . . that. _"But why be so concerned about some goth girl gettin' picked on by one of the in crowd?"

Jeff hesitated, looking off into space. Rogue found herself wondering what was behind those glasses. Finally, he just said, "Instinct, I guess."

"Oh. Well . . . thanks again. And for the paper."

"Not a problem. I didn't have anything better to do last period." He motioned to an approaching pair of figures. "Friends of yours?"

Kurt and Kitty came up, their own trays in hand, and sat down. "Hi Rogue!" Kitty said, in her usually sickeningly cheerful voice. "Who's this?"

"Jeff," Rogue said. "Jeff McGovern. He's new. Jeff, this is Kitty Pryde an' Kurt Wagner."

Jeff held out a hand to Kurt, who was closer. Kitty intercepted it, though, bubbling "Like, hi! Nice to have a new face!"

"Nice to meet you too." Jeff looked at Kurt, but the other boy just waved and didn't hold out a hand to shake.

"Ja, hello, Jeff," Kurt said, his German accent thicker than Rogue's Southern drawl. He was very careful with his Ws, though. "Where are you from?"

"Virginia," Jeff said. "I moved here just recently to live with my uncle."

"What about your parents?" Kitty asked.

For a moment, Jeff didn't say anything. Then, a little too casually, "They died."

Kitty winced. "Sorry."

"Not your fault. Drunk driver's to blame."

"'M erdop'd," Kurt said around a mouthful of food.

"Me too," Rogue added. "Adopted, that is."

"I see."

There was a bit of awkward silence as the other three friends tried to think of something to say. Fortunately, outside forces intervened.

"Rogue!"

Rogue jumped. Scott had come up behind her. She turned around in her seat to look up at the boy. Six feet, brown hair, red wrap-around glasses, and a rather obvious scowl.

"Yeah?"

"What's this I hear about you fighting?"

"Look, a guy pushed me in the hall and ripped my English paper. I was just --"

"I don't want to hear it, Rogue!" Scott snapped. "What if you touched him?"

"Um, Scott –-" Rogue started to say.

"Shut up. Professor X can't go around fixing everything for you. What if you'd put him in a coma?"

"Scott!" Kitty said loudly.

"Kitty, don't --"

"Scott!" Kitty repeated, looking a lot more assertive than the little girl normally did. She pointed. "This is Jeff. New student. Say hi."

Jeff stood, looking a little uncomfortable. He held out a hand. "Jeff McGovern. Nice to meet you." He didn't sound so sure of that last part, though.

Scott, however, was looking like a deer in the headlights. Rogue managed not to smirk at that, though it was hard. Mr. In Charge just made a goof-up.

"Um . . . hi." Scott shook Jeff's hand. "Er, sorry about that. Family squabble thing . . . you know." He sounded lame and he knew it.

"Oh, you're Rogue's brother?"

"No, no. We just live in the same house."

"Oh. Boarding house?"

"Kinda." Over his glasses, Scott's forehead furrowed. "Xavier Institute. Special education place."

"But you're here at a public high school," Jeff pointed out.

"The public school system takes care of the standard education aspects," Scott said, giving the canned response.

"And you're the RA?"

"Um . . . sort of." Scott was looking very uncomfortable. He'd almost said too much in front of an outsider, someone he should have noticed was there. And on top of that, Rogue wondered if Scott was suddenly realizing how uncomfortable his own glasses must make other people. It was impossible to read Jeff's expression.

"Look, um, nice to meet you, but I've got to get back to my lunch." Scott looked at Rogue. "I'm sure Professor Xavier'll want to talk to you after school."

Rogue almost sassed back at him, but held off because of Jeff. He was already looking uncomfortable. She just shrugged and said she'd do it.

Jeff looked at Scott as the other boy retreated back across the cafeteria. "He seemed in a bad mood."

"Oh, that's just how Scott is," Kurt said easily. "He likes things to go smoothly."

Kitty smiled brightly. "Professor Xavier likes to keep his school quiet, y'know? He thinks it works best in privacy. Scott likes that a lot, so he doesn't like it when we call attention to ourselves."

"Right. I can see that."

Rogue felt like sighing in relief. Jeff didn't seem to have picked up on Scott mentioning a coma.

* * *

"Hey! Wait up! Scott! Jean! Kurt! Oh for crying out loud." Rogue scowled as Scott's car left the parking lot, leaving her behind. She'd only been a few minutes late. 

"Trouble?" came Jeff's voice, and she turned to look at him as he walked over.

Rogue had seen more of Jeff over the last few days. It turned out that he'd been assigned two of the same classes she had, and they sat together at lunch. He met some more of the Institute kids, including Jean -- who, for some reason, didn't seem to like him. Rogue was fine with that. She didn't like Jean either.

Jeff was odd. He seemed very laid-back and quiet, and hardly seemed to pay attention in class. And yet, if they discussed homework, he could remember it in detail. He didn't have a photographic memory, but it was still impressive. Kitty finally had someone other than Dr. McCoy to talk to about physics and space stuff, so she hung out with them a lot. She and Jeff could talk about some very strange things, and they'd get so absorbed that Kitty would actually forget to keep up the Valley Girl disguise she cultivated so carefully.

Rogue felt strange about that. She wasn't jealous -- she'd known Jeff only a few days, after all. Nothing to be jealous about. Even so, she didn't like how he seemed to relate to her roommate better than her.

Okay, maybe she was a _little _jealous.

Still, Jeff seemed genuinely interested in talking to Rogue, and they told each other details about their pasts. She told him about growing up in the Mississippi country, though of course she fudged the reason why she'd moved to Bayville. He, on the other hand, was a city boy. He'd grown up essentially in Washington DC, despite actually living in Virginia. After his parents died, his uncle, a lieutenant in the Bayville Police Department, had been given custody.

His glasses didn't hold the same sort of secret that Scott's did. He just happened to have unusually sensitive, very pale eyes. Wearing glasses all the time just kept him from squinting. It also kept his eyes out of the sight of others. He said he'd been accused several times of wearing tinted contacts, and when he showed them to Rogue, Kurt, and Kitty, they could see why.

"Oh . . . mah ride just left." Rogue said. Her Southern drawl had become more expressive with her frustration. "I have t' walk."

"To the Institute?" Jeff asked rhetorically. "Long walk."

"Yeah."

"Want some company?"

Rogue hesitated. It _was_ a long walk, just around two miles as the crow flew and almost four walking, and she could use someone to talk to. But the Institute was supposed to be private. The Prof didn't like having visitors, even just people walking by. That's why it was as far off the beaten track as it was.

". . . sure," she said finally. "If you don't mind, I mean."

"Not at all. Nothing better to do this afternoon."

Jeff and Rogue began walking. "Where's your home, anyway?" Rogue asked.

"Oh, over in the Green Hills neighborhood."

Rogue frowned. "This'll take you out of your way."

"Like I said, nothing better to do. It's a beautiful Friday afternoon, which means no homework needs immediate attention. It's late September, just turning into fall. I don't really want to go inside yet. Plus I'm getting a set of wheels next week, and I've got to get my exercise in while I have the chance."

Rogue smirked. "I see. So walking me home ain't out of being a gentleman, huh? You've got an ulterior motive?"

"That's it exactly," Jeff said immediately. "Walking a pretty girl home is secondary to the calories I'll burn."

Rogue fought a blush. She'd never been called pretty, not to her face, not since she started dressing goth-like. She wondered if he really meant it, or if it was just playful banter.

She didn't have much time to think about it, though, as she saw two boys walking towards them, one carrying a baseball bat. She recognized the other as being from the football team. They both walked purposefully at Rogue and Jeff.

"Jeff . . . ."

"Yeah. I see them. Three more behind us."

Rogue twisted her head just enough to spot them. "Yeah, you're right. How'd you see them?"

"I saw the refection on that car's windshield."

"Oh. What do you think they want?"

"Me, I'd say."

"I'm guessing they don't want your autograph, then?"

"No, probably not," Jeff replied. "From the look of it, Charlie wants to dance the foxtrot."

"The who and the what now?"

"Never mind. Tell you later."

"Hey, McGovern," the football player said, almost conversationally. "Mind if we have a word?"

"I certainly don't," Jeff replied with extra politeness. "In fact, you just had several. Now please, you're blocking our way."

The player laughed. "That's kinda the point. See, we owe you a little something."

"Thanks. I'll take it in tens and twenties, please."

All five of them laughed. Rogue looked over her shoulder again. Only the guy in front of them was carrying a weapon, but they all looked tough. She could take two, she thought, but no more without touching them skin-to-skin.

_If Jeff weren't here, I could take them all down pretty easy_, Rogue thought. _One touch, that's all . . ._

"Lookit the joker," the guy with the baseball bat was saying. "Hey, funny guy, you put Larry in the hospital. We owe you for that, and it don't come in bills."

"'Cept doctor's bills," said one of the guys behind them, laughing at his own joke.

Jeff turned slightly. "Leave the jokes to someone else, okay? You suck at it."

Rogue was finally figuring it out. "So . . . Larry. Same guy that pushed me the other day?"

"Yup."

"And you put him in the hospital?"

"I think I broke a bone or two."

"He broke his leg in five places!" said the leader. "He won't be able to play this season!"

"I'm sure the team will survive. He shouldn't have come at me like that."

"So . . . it's okay for you to put him in the hospital, just not me?" Rogue asked, as she sized up the fight ahead of them.

Jeff shrugged. "I didn't plan it. He confronted me the same way these guys are, off school property. I wasn't trying to hurt him. I just forgot there was a telephone pole behind me."

"Oh. Okay then." Rogue shrugged, then pointed. "Hey, look, there's a telephone pole right there."

"So there is. We don't need to keep them waiting, do we?"

"Nope. I'll take two." With that last word, Rogue dropped her bag and leapt at the leader.

* * *

_Yeah, here we go again_, Jeff thought. _Another fight. Move to Bayville . . . meet exciting new people . . . and pick fights with them. Or them with you. Whichever comes first. _

A bare beat behind Rogue, Jeff spun, letting the motion pull his bag off his shoulder. He carried the move through and sent the backpack flying at one of the three other bullies. It hit him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He wasn't a worry for at least another few seconds.

One of the other jocks tried to rush him, but Jeff side-stepped him, bringing his left hand, fingers blade-like, to stab his right side just below his ribs. The jock yelled in pain and surprise as Jeff hit the nerve cluster. As he doubled over, Jeff followed through with a shove at the base of his neck, sending him to the ground.

The third one tried to bull rush him, like he was playing football. He was holding his arms to protect him from the same maneuver that Jeff had used on his friend, but Jeff spun on his right leg, hooking his left foot behind the boy's knee. The jock fell on his back, hard.

The first one was just getting up, and had actually turned his back on his target. Jeff rewarded such short-sightedness by bringing both hands down to chop at his shoulders, where they met the base of his neck. The guy grunted as his arms suddenly gave way.

Jeff really did like using pressure points.

He looked over to see how Rogue was doing. The leader looked out cold, and there was blood dripping from his nose. The one with the baseball bat looked to be giving her some trouble; she was favoring her left leg, and it didn't look like she'd managed to lay a hand on him.

Jeff took a moment to give his second opponent the same treatment he'd given the first; those strikes temporarily paralyzed the target's arms. He'd have to send a thank-you email to Officer Talbot for teaching that to him.

"Need any help?" he asked Rogue mildly.

"Oh, no, just having some fun here," she said, only a slight tinge of sarcasm in her voice.

"Okay, if you're sure." Jeff paused a moment. "Though, you know, my friend," he added to the guy with the bat, "four out of five are down. Maybe you should be thinking about the better part of valor."

Bat Boy hesitated as he considered it. Jeff was thinking he'd do just that when he heard a slight sound behind him. He turned just in time to see Number Three throwing a rock at him. Jeff just barely twisted out of the way, and it slammed into Rogue's upper arm. She yelped, and Bat Boy took that moment to swing at her. There was a sickening crack, and Rogue screamed.

Bat Boy didn't look like he cared. He lined up for another hit, this time aiming for Rogue's head. Jeff was there in two strides, grabbed her by her arm, and yanked her out of the way. Bat Boy over-swung, thrown off-balance, and Jeff stepped into the gap. Normally he preferred minimal force, but now he came in with a good old-fashioned uppercut. Bat Boy went down and didn't get up.

Jeff turned on the one who threw the rock. "You want the same? Get out of here!"

The jock looked the way all bullies do when faced with someone better: scared. He got to his feet and ran as fast as his bruises would allow.

"I can't get up!" Number One yelled. He was trying to prop himself up, but his arm wouldn't take his weight. "I'll sue you for this!"

"It'll wear off in a few minutes," Jeff said, absolutely no sympathy in his voice. "And you'd be laughed out of court. Now shut up and leave, or wait for the cops."

He turned his attention to Rogue, kneeling beside her on the ground. "Where's it hurt?

"Mah wrist," Rogue said, her drawl making itself known again. She held out her right arm. "Ah think it might be broken." She looked pale and was beginning to sweat. Her eyes were a steely gray, but they looked like they were becoming duller by the second.

_Her eyes look so much nicer when they're green_, Jeff thought. However, he pushed that thought aside. "Let me see." He pushed her sleeve out of the way.

* * *

Distracted, Rogue didn't realize what he was doing at first. Then the touch of his hand on her bare skin registered. "NO!" Rogue snatched her arm back, ignoring the pain the movement caused. 

Jeff looked confused. "I didn't even touch your wrist yet."

Rogue just stared at him. He'd touched her skin -- not just brushed it, but held her bare arm with his whole hand. And yet he was . . . okay.

Well, except for how he was looking at her like she'd just grown a second head.

"Look, you need to see a doctor," Jeff said after a moment. "We can call an ambulance --"

"No!" Rogue said quickly. "I can't go to a hospital. I . . . I just need t' get t' the Institute."

"Rogue, if that's broken, then --"

"We've got a doctor there," Rogue interrupted. Well, two. Of course, they weren't MDs, but she couldn't let Jeff take her to the hospital. Unless . . . people could touch her now. But no, she couldn't risk it. Jeff touching her was probably just a fluke. A really, really weird fluke . . . .

"Fine. Do you have a cell?"

"No. You?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I did."

"Maybe . . . knock on someone's door?" Rogue looked around for the first time, and was surprised to find them alone. It was a residential neighborhood, and they'd made a lot of noise during the fight. "Where is everyone?"

"Most of them are at work," Jeff replied, patting down the lead bully. "No use ringing doorbells. They're either gone or they've bolted the doors and called the police." He pried a small object out of the unconscious boy's pocket. It was a cell phone. "Fortunately, we have the spoils of war. I hope he's out of free minutes. What's the number?"

"I'll do it." Rogue held her hand out for the phone, and she dialed.

"Logan? Yeah. Ah need t' be picked up. Yeah. Mah wrist. 'Kay. Thanks."

She ended the call and handed the cell back to Jeff. "Someone's on the way."

"That's good, because the police are coming."

"What?" Then Rogue heard it too -- sirens, coming closer. She felt cold. She hadn't done anything wrong, but she was drawing attention to herself. The Institute couldn't afford that.

"Don't worry about it." Rogue looked up, startled. Jeff gave her a reassuring smile. "They won't hold you, and 'Logan' will be here soon to take you to a doctor."

The sound of footsteps caught their attention, and they turned to see the two remaining conscious bullies running away. Jeff shrugged. "I'm surprised they took that long to get up."

"Sirens . . . kinda helped, I think." Rogue was beginning to feel detached from the pain. Mild shock, she figured. "Nice with the pressure points, by the way. I have trouble with them."

"Thanks. Maybe I can help with that after your wrist heals."

"You hurt your hand?" Rogue asked, noticing his bloody knuckles.

Jeff looked at his right hand in surprise. "Huh. Didn't notice." He flexed his hand and winced. "Yeah, that's why I don't normally like punching people. Certainly not in the jaw."

Rogue knew what he was talking about. Logan had lectured them on the subject more than once: be careful about hitting boney places, because anything that breaks one bone can break another; and even if it didn't break, you could still feel it for a while.

The squad car soon rolled up, and Jeff stood up, arms held from his body to show he was unarmed. A single police officer stepped out. In her pain-induced haze, Rogue wondered why they were called squad cars when they normally only held one guy.

"Jeff?" the officer asked, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Just killing time, Sam."

"Just so long as you ain't killing anything else," the officer said, looking at the two bodies."

"Yeah. They attacked us."

"Took out two of them by yourself?"

"Marie here helped."

The officer looked her over. "You hurt, miss?"

"Yeah." Rogue nodded. "But 'sokay. Someone'll be here soon."

"You call an ambulance?" the officer asked Jeff.

"No, but her family's on the way. They'll take her to their doctor."

"What about these guys?"

"Well, I think they'll be all right. They ought to be checked out, though."

"Right." He spoke into his radio, calling for an ambulance and reporting in on what had happened. As he finished, a Rolls Royce pulled up.

"Now, there's a ride," Sam said appreciatively. "Who's this girl's family, anyway?"

_You don't want to know_, Rogue thought sadly. _Even Jeff . . . if Jeff knew, he'd never speak to me again._

* * *

_Good question,_ Jeff thought. _What kind of boarding school uses a genuine Rolls Royce to pick up an injured girl?_

The car stopped, and Jean Grey got out of the passenger door to rush over to Rogue. A muscled, rough-looking man stepped out of the driver's side. He was built like a fireplug -- short and solid. He was most certainly not the sort of person Jeff would associate with a Rolls.

_For that matter, why does the driver move like a cage fighter and look at me like I'm a target in a shooting gallery?_

"What happened, kid?" the man asked Rogue.

"They attacked us. Ah got hit with a bat. Jeff took care of most of them."

Jeff frowned. "I'm sorry I didn't finish him before you got hit like that."

The tough guy looked at him. "And you are?"

"Jeff McGovern."

"Logan. How many?"

"Five," Rogue answered.

Logan snorted, scratching his unshaven face. "Five against two, and you're upset you didn't get 'em fast enough."

Sam whistled. "Yeah, man. Those odds? Dang, but I owe your uncle an apology. I thought he was jus' exaggerating about you."

Jeff shook his head. "He was the only one left standing. I could have finished him off, but I thought I'd let Rogue try. She'd have done it if one of the guys I thought was down hadn't hit her with a rock."

"Don't worry about it, Jeff," Sam said. "It's over with. She'll be okay."

Jean was examining Rogue. Interestingly, she had on a latex glove. _Must be from a first aid kit_, Jeff thought. "I think it's just a sprain," announced the redheaded girl. "We'll need an x-ray to be certain, but I don't feel any obvious breaks. How are you feeling, Rogue?"

"It's not hurting so much anymore," Rogue said, though sweat was still standing out on her forehead.

"Why'd they go after you, anyway?" Sam asked Jeff. "Money?"

"No, revenge," Jeff admitted. "Seems they think I had something to do with a friend of theirs getting sent to the hospital a few days ago."

Logan looked at him. "Did'ya?"

"I believe he hit a telephone pole."

"Not what I asked, bub."

Jeff shrugged. "I might have been standing next to the telephone pole."

Sam laughed. "Well, I won't worry about it. If he hasn't pressed charges by now, it's probably because he started it. You want to charge these guys?"

"Nah. It won't help. The other three guys got away, so a two-on-two fight won't look so good in court."

"Maybe, maybe not. The call was seven people in a fight."

"Oh. Well . . . Rogue? You want to charge them?"

Rogue flicked a glance at Logan, but said no.

"Okay then," Sam said, shrugging. It just meant less paperwork for him, after all, and it didn't look like anything really serious had been going on. "Best go see that doc of yours. The paramedics'll be here soon for these two fine citizens, and they won't like to see you leave without poking and prodding you six ways to Sunday."

"Thank you, Officer," Jean said, helping Rogue to her feet.

"Yeah. Later, bub," Logan said over his shoulder, as he climbed back into the Rolls.

Sam shook his head as he watched them leave. "I've seen that thing in town a few times, but I didn't think it belonged to a guy like that. Who is he, anyway?"

Jeff smirked. "Aren't you supposed to get contact information _before_ they leave?"

"I got you, don't I? It's enough when you ain't filing charges."

"If you say so. She's from the Xavier Institute. I expect the car belongs to the headmaster."

"Oh. That place." There was a funny note in Sam's voice.

"What about it?" Jeff asked, curious.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. That place is . . . weird. Strange stuff happens around it."

"What kind of strange stuff?"

"Nothin' definite. Just complaints from people, both about the residents and about things they think they see around the place. One guy even said he saw explosions."

"Sounds exciting," Jeff said dryly.

"Yeah, sure. Well, they haven't done anything criminal that I know of, so it ain't my problem." Sam leaned over Bat Boy, who was stirring. "This guy, on the other hand, is. Hey, good morning, sunshine. You've had a busy time, haven't you?"

_To Be Continued . . .  
_

* * *

**Author's Note**

I hope you've enjoyed this first installment of what I intend to be a long and involved series.

You may like to check out the Maverick homepage. (You'll find the URL at the bottom of this page; the extra spaces are in it due to some glitch that won't let me put it in the normal way.) It will soon have extra content, such as character lists, story blurbs, and more informative author's notes than what I'll be putting here (which will probably answer many questions you the reader may have, such as "Why are Rogue's eyes changing color? Is that canon?").

Issue #2 will be up around July 15th; I'll be out of the country August 1st, but otherwise I'll be keeping to the 1st-and-15th-of-the-month schedule for as long as I can keep it up.

Here's hoping for an enjoyable ride all around!

maverick . evolution . googlepages . com


	2. Issue 2: Brave New World: Questions

X-Men: Evolution

_  
Maverick_ #2:  
Brave New World, Part 2

_Questions_

by  
Bookwyrm

Would You Like Some Conspiracy With Your Coffee?

* * *

Rogue was in the infirmary, resting on one of the beds, her wrist now in a temporary cast. Logan, Kurt, and Kitty were in with her. Logan was getting a blow-by-blow account of the fight from her, critiquing Rogue's moves. He'd been particularly interested in Jeff's surgical strikes to vulnerable areas. Kurt was trying to make her laugh by acting out an exaggerated version of what he heard, and succeeding. 

Then Professor Charles Xavier rolled in on his wheelchair, Jean following behind him. The Professor was a pleasant-looking individual, bald but with a grandfatherly look. He also had a presence that made people sit up and take notice.

"I hope this isn't becoming a habit for you, Rogue," the professor said mildly. There was a trace of a British accent in his voice.

"Habit?" Rogue asked, blinking.

"Getting into fights. It's not good for the Institute. Or your health, for that matter."

"Sorry," Rogue mumbled. The painkillers were affecting her. The x-rays had shown a hairline fracture in her wrist; nothing serious, hardly even enough for a cast, but Dr. McCoy'd given her a mild narcotic anyway.

Xavier looked over to where his German student was perched on the arm of a chair. "And Kurt . . . how much caffeine have you had?"

"Oh, Professor, you know my limit is eleven cups of coffee!" Kurt said cheerfully.

Xavier chuckled, but then turned serious as he looked back at Rogue. "Is something bothering you, Rogue?" he asked as he wheeled closer.

Rogue hesitated. The Prof was a telepath -- a real, read-your-mind-at-any-time telepath. He could erase memories and put in false ones. He could even control people, Rogue was told, though she didn't know of any specific time he'd done that. He had very strong rules for himself regarding the use of his abilities. One of them kept him out of her head except in an emergency, but he couldn't help but pick up on strong surface thoughts.

"It's Jeff," she said after a moment.

"The boy you were with?"

"Yeah."

"What about him?"

Rogue hesitated again. Xavier simply waited, letting her work herself up to it. Finally, she blurted, "He touched me."

Xavier frowned. "Skin contact?"

"Yes."

"Logan didn't mention anything wrong with him. It wasn't serious, I assume."

Rogue shook her head. "That's just it. He was fine."

If she hadn't had it yet, Rogue now had Xavier's undivided attention. "Nothing happened?"

"I didn't get anything, and he didn't act like he felt anything either."

Xavier frowned. "Have you noticed anything else odd about him?"

"Odd? Like mutant odd?"

"Yes."

Rogue chewed on her lip. She'd been avoiding the idea. "Maybe. He wears sunglasses all the time. Mirrored lenses. He's got really sensitive eyes."

"Are you certain of that?"

"He took them off once to show us," Kitty volunteered.

"Ja, they're really pale, his eyes," Kurt chimed in. "Like silver."

"He was squinting in the light of the cafeteria," Kitty continued. "But I don't think it's really mutant level."

"Oh, but he doesn't ever eat anything!" Kurt said seriously. "That's weird, right?"

"He eats during his free period," Rogue corrected him. "He says he normally has four meals a day, and waiting for the normal lunch hour is too long for him. He brings his own food."

Jean and Xavier looked at each other, likely communicating telephically. It was just for a moment, but that was all the time they needed; if Rogue hadn't seen it so many times, she wouldn't even notice it.

Xavier folded his hands in his lap. "Jean has told me something rather disturbing. Jean?"

"I can't read his mind," Jean said. "I tried scanning him today, because of what happened, but I can't even sense the presence of thoughts in his head."

That stilled the room for a moment. Jean was another telepath, Xavier's protégée. She wasn't nearly as powerful as Xavier, but at close ranges she should be able to at least sense the presence of a working normal mind.

"Maybe he's a robot," Kurt said after a moment. "That'd explain why he doesn't actually eat lunch with us -- he doesn't eat food at all!"

"Can it, elf," Logan snorted. "He's human. I could smell him. And he bleeds, too."

"Is he another telepath?" Kitty asked, hesitating.

"Perhaps," Xavier said, a deep frown on his face. "Perhaps not. All we know is he somehow has an extraordinarily strong mental shield, and was somehow not affected by Rogue's power."

"So." Logan crossed his arms. "Think he knows about us?"

"If he is a telepath . . . then he would have to."

Rogue felt cold. Was Jeff working for Magneto? Had he . . . just been using her to get close to the Institute?

[Don't worry about it, Rogue, came the professor's familiar voice in her head. [We'll get to the bottom of it.

Aloud, Xavier said, "I think I should meet this young man."

* * *

It hadn't been hard to crack into the school database. Jeff was far from a good computer hacker, but Bayville's student files were barely under any encryption at all. Student grades and the like were primarily on a paper trail in this district, with electronic directories only to keep track of them. And of course, no tests were stored on any computer that could be accessed from the outside. The local school district seemed to be a bit more practical than his old one. Never use a fancy lock when a simple one would do. 

There turned out to be sixteen students in middle and high schools that listed the Xavier Institute as a home address. A seventeenth, a single boy, was listed as "home-school." Quick searches on them showed seemingly no real pattern; Jean Grey was from a wealthy family, and Scott Summers had a small fortune waiting for him when he came of age, but Kitty Pryde was solidly middle class. Rogue was listed as having been taken in as a full ward by Dr. Charles Xavier. Kurt wasn't the only foreign student; there were two others, both girls: one Amara Juliana Olivia Aquilla, from Brazil, and Rahne Sinclair, from Scotland.

The place said it was for "Gifted Youngsters," but that didn't hold up academically. Most of the Institute kids had average grades. Kitty Pryde ranked high in hard sciences, and Jean Grey in the liberal arts. Only two students -- Jean again, and an Evan Daniels -- were at all involved in sports, where apparently they both excelled. Other than that, the students seemed to be rather nondescript.

Dr. Xavier took a while to research, though that was mainly because of his body of work. Born just after World War II in England, now holding dual citizenship. Recovered from a near-fatal wound that left him paralyzed from the waist down. After that, he went into genetics, and currently held some rather impressive degrees. Two doctorates, one in genetics and the other in psychology; a master's each in history, chemistry, and education; and a bachelor's in literature. He'd written surprisingly little for such a resume, however, most of it getting published in some obscure journals that Jeff had never heard of.

The Institute had surprisingly little information on it in any source. It wasn't a school, or at least it wasn't connected with the New York Department of Education beyond that one homeschooling kid. It received no government money at all. There were some newspaper clippings about it, but generally they just referred to it as a boarding house with some special education programs.

It was fishy, to say the least. Jeff went farther afield, and started looking for things not obviously connected. He found some noise complaints from neighbors; though the lands surrounding the Institute were also listed as being owned by Charles Xavier, people were apparently close enough to hear loud noises, including the explosions Sam had mentioned. He also managed to find other disruptions of normal life in town in the last year, like reports of a feral gorilla, or the miniature earthquake that seismologists were unable to explain, both starting at the high school.

At seven in the morning, Jeff left the computer and entered the apartment's tiny kitchen. He pulled out the box of Tim Horton's brand coffee and filled the coffee pot with the stuff. Jeff didn't much like coffee, but at least the Tim Horton's brew wasn't too bad. He added a spoonful of the same brand of hot chocolate powder and a sprinkling of cinnamon, and set the whole thing to start cooking.

About fifteen minutes later, as the strong aroma of coffee filled the apartment, Jeff's uncle wandered into the living room. Sean McGovern carried more of the family's Irish heritage than Jeff did. Jeff's features took after his mother's, who despite being half Irish had looked more Italian than anything else. Uncle Sean, like his dead brother, was red-haired, freckled, and looked permanently mischievous. People were instantly comfortable around him. He complained about it sometimes, saying that just once he wanted to play "Bad Cop."

"Been up all night again, Jeff me boy?" he asked, scratching at his chest through his undershirt.

"Yeah," Jeff answered. "I wanted to do some research."

"Already? They assignin' papers t' you now?" Uncle Sean spoke perfect American English, but he cultivated that Irish brogue like it was a prize orchid. He usually only dropped it when surprised or he wanted to be serious. "Honestly, they be workin' you kids too hard."

"No, it's just my own work," Jeff assured him. "I was really curious about something and wanted to look it up."

"Eh, I wish I could get away with no' sleepin' the way you do." Sean shook his head as he poured himself some of the steaming coffee.

Jeff was one of those rare individuals who only needed an average of two hours of sleep in a twenty-four hour period. He sometimes described it as having too much energy to sleep. Often he actually skipped sleep entirely, making it up again a few days later. He could get by on a regular cycle of sleeping only every third night that way and still not risk his health. It was the secret, in as much as one could call it a secret, of his ability to retain information. He didn't think of himself as being smarter than average -- he just had the advantage of more time to study.

"It's overrated," Jeff said, still working at the computer. "You'd easily get bored."

"I don' know about that. You seem to do pretty well. An' surely would make double shifts easier."

"Yes, you aren't one to be talking about working too hard, Uncle Sean."

"Just a favor t' a friend. He wanted t' spend the night with his wife. Their first anniversary, don'tcha know."

"Oh, Greg and Sara Fuller?"

"Yep, that's them. Nice couple." Sean wandered out into the living room and dropped himself onto the couch. Ordinarily he'd be getting into his uniform, but he currently had the weekends off; next week he'd be working six days straight, then taking Sunday and Monday off. He called it a "Beatles work week."

"So, Jeff . . . I dinnae have a chance t' speak t' you last night." Sean's tone was a bit too casual. "Anythin' interestin' happen?"

Jeff rolled his eyes. "You know, Uncle Sean, you could just come right out and say Sam talked to you."

Sean coughed, embarrassed. "Well, I was told I shouldnae be too blunt wi' kids. I'm still learnin' the ropes here."

"George told you that, right? Yeah, he's got experience, but from what I heard his kids aren't anything like me. Besides, it only works when you've had years to get to know the kid. We've never seen much of each other."

"Eh. Sorry, lad."

"Don't be sorry. Just be an uncle. It's a lot easier than being a dad, and it takes less time."

"Right." Sean paused. "Eh, lookit me, takin' advice on parentin' from the kid I'm supposed to be parentin' in the first place."

"You'll get used to it. I did it to Dad, too."

Another pause. "You missing your parents, Jeff?"

Sean's accent had disappeared. Jeff sighed, turned away from the computer, and faced his uncle.

"Of course I am," he said quietly.

"Is that why you've been getting into fights?"

"No."

"Your parents never mentioned any fighting to me when they were alive. You sure you're not just lashing out?"

Jeff looked Sean in the eye. "The reason they never told you about any fighting was because they never knew about it. Most parents don't. I started martial arts because I was getting picked on, and I didn't want to be defenseless." Jeff hesitated. "No, I take that back. I wanted to beat them to a bloody pulp. But I never got the chance, because I never got picked on again until high school, and by then I figured out that it didn't help."

Sean sat up, interested. "Why didn't you get picked on?"

"Because the lead bully was expelled, and by the time a new power came around Mom was home-schooling me."

"But you said it started again during high school."

"Yeah. Stopped home-school, went to Blair High. New school, new area, new bullies who don't know me. Smarter ones, too. By the time they get to high school, most bullies know not to do anything on school property. They try ambushing their targets in areas where people can't see it happen."

Sean nodded, understanding. "And that's why your parents didn't know about it?"

"Yeah. None of the bullies wanted to admit it, and I made it clear to them that I wouldn't say anything if they controlled themselves. It took a few tries, but they figured it out."

"So that's what happened at Bayville High? They haven't figured it out yet?"

"Yeah. And they aren't so smart as to pick a more secluded area."

"Sam said that one kid was having trouble talking. The other one had a broken nose. And then there was this other one he said you fought a few days ago. Broke his leg."

Jeff frowned. "Those were accidents. I hit one guy in the jaw because I needed to take him out quick. He'd just hurt Rogue rather badly."

"Rogue?"

"The girl I was with. It's a nickname. Her real name's Marie."

"Okay. The others?"

"Rogue took out the one with the broken nose. I think he just fell wrong. As for the one with the leg, I was trying to wear him down before I used any pressure points. Unfortunately, I forgot how close the telephone pole was, and I spun him around too quickly."

"But five places?"

"I think they were mostly hairline fractures. His leg wasn't bent at all."

Sean nodded, looking away. "You use pressure points a lot?"

"Yeah. Can't use them in tournaments, but I learned some tricks back home. Some from a police officer I knew there."

"Officer Talbot?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, your father mentioned him to me a few times." Sean looked at Jeff again. "Sam mentioned that this 'Rogue' was an Institute kid."

"Yes, she is."

"You know anything about them?"

Jeff shook his head. "Just enough to wonder why people don't know more."

"The Institute kids aren't very popular with people in this town," Sean told him, looking away again. "I think they're okay. No more trouble than kids normally are, though there have been a lot of weird things that have happened around them. They do help out with community service, though."

"Like?"

Sean shrugged. "Just volunteer work. Picking up trash in the park, homeless shelters, that sort of thing. Not a whole lot, but enough to notice. It's probably something their headmaster makes 'em do, but they never seem to do it half-heartedly."

He looked back at Jeff. "That's what you were 'researching,' wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Find anything?"

Jeff hesitated. "You know that old joke about NSA jokes?"

"A joke about jokes?"

"Yeah. One guy says to his friends, 'I went looking on the Internet for jokes about the NSA. You know what I found? Absolutely nothing. It's scary.'"

"Not the best joke I've ever heard."

"I wasn't trying to make it funny."

"I see. So you didn't find anything about them? The Xavier Institute, I mean, not the NSA."

Jeff shook his head. "I found a lot, but not enough. And what I did find is all good. Too good. Health inspection, electrical and plumbing, zoning codes, and especially the educational quality. Everything's exactly right."

Sean frowned. "You found all that stuff?"

"It's public domain. And I had all night."

"Right." Sean rolled his eyes. "Lad, you want a job? I think we could use you in researching things at the department."

"The police department won't hire me until I'm eighteen."

Sean snorted, amused. "Looked into that too, eh? Well, that's only a little over a year. So anyway. The Institute. You think there's something fishy?"

"Maybe. I don't know." Jeff shrugged. "It just seems a little too good. Ordinarily, the state looks into this sort of place with a fine-toothed comb. Home-schooling isn't looked on with favor by most boards of education, especially in overly liberal states like New York. Even back in Virginia Mom was having problem with the state oversight, when she was home-schooling me. But the county BOE barely acknowledges the Institute's existence."

"But these kids aren't home-schooled. They use Bayville High."

"There's one kid there listed as one hundred percent home-school, and anyway the Institute is supposed to be giving some sort of education not available at Bayville. The BOE records are rather sketchy on what it is, though, especially since they have such a clean bill of academic health."

"This is starting to sound like some kind of conspiracy theory."

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

Almost two hours later, the phone rang. Caller ID just gave "UNKNOWN," so Jeff picked it up expecting a telemarketer. Uncle Sean had never signed up for the Do Not Call list. 

"Hello?" Jeff asked, a finger over the off button.

"Jeff?"

"Rogue?" Jeff blinked.

"Yeah."

"How'd you get my number?"

"It's the only McGovern in Bayville. I took a chance that your uncle was your father's brother."

Jeff felt a bit dumb. "Oh. Right. That works." There was a bit of an awkward silence.

"So . . . um, I wanted to thank you for yesterday."

"Don't bother. You wouldn't have been in it if it weren't for me walking you home."

"Still, it could have been worse."

"Yeah, I guess. So, how's your arm?"

"Hairline fracture. I'll have it in a cast for two weeks."

"Oh. I'm sorry about that."

"Not your fault."

"I could have stepped in sooner."

"It doesn't matter, Jeff. Everything's fine."

"Okay."

"Listen, Professor Xavier wants to meet you."

Jeff raised his eyebrows. "He does?"

"Yeah. So, um, can you come over?"

"Now?"

"Yeah. I mean, if you didn't have other plans . . ."

"No, no plans. Just studying and goofing off."

"Great. So, the car will be there in fifteen minutes, okay?"

"Sure. Thanks."

"Yeah. Bye."

"Bye." Jeff hung up.

Uncle Sean's voice spoke up from behind Jeff. "Girlfriend?"

"No," Jeff answered quickly. "It was Rogue."

"Who said they couldnae be th' same?"

"Rogue isn't my girlfriend," Jeff said, not looking at his uncle. "We barely know each other."

"Sure. Where are you going?"

"She invited me to the Institute," Jeff answered, glad to be off the topic.

"Really?" Sean looked surprised. "Now that's interestin'. Not a place to be gettin' lots o' guests."

"Yeah. Seems the headmaster wants to meet me."

"Now why'd he want to do that?"

"Probably because I 'rescued' Rogue. She's his ward, so I guess he wants to thank me."

"Right." Sean lay down on the couch again and reached for the TV remote. "Let me know if you find any conspiracies."

* * *

The Rolls Royce arrived fourteen minutes after Jeff had hung up, almost to the dot. The driver's window rolled down, revealing Logan. 

"In the back, kid," the man said.

"Charming," Jeff muttered under his breath.

"I don't get paid for my charm, bub."

Jeff paused, startled.

"Yeah, I know. I've got good ears. Just get in."

The back door opened, and Jeff saw Jean Grey inside.

"It's okay, Jeff," Jean called. "Don't mind Logan."

As Jeff got in, he realized something odd. Jean was on the far side of the car from him, and Logan obviously hadn't opened the door himself. How had it opened?

"You look surprised," Jean noted.

"I was just expecting Rogue to be here," Jeff told her. It wasn't even a lie.

"She wanted to come," Jean supplied. "But she's still a little sore from yesterday."

Jeff looked at her. Jean was odd. She was a popular girl, somehow untouched by the aura of strangeness around the Institute kids. Kurt and Kitty seemed to like her. Rogue didn't. Jeff didn't think he liked her either. Jean was cold and distant, like if she acted human she'd somehow break a sacred vow. Or at least, that's how she was around him. He'd seen Jean laugh and relax with friends, including the other Institute kids, but the moment she saw him she always seemed to turn into the White Witch.

"You don't approve, do you." Jeff didn't bother making it a question.

Jean's expression didn't change. "I'm sorry?"

"Of me. Of the fact that Rogue is my friend. Of me being in this car right now."

"Why would you think that?"

"How about the fact that you're looking at me like you wish I'd just disappear?"

Jean blinked. "I am not."

"Yes, you are. You always do."

Jean looked away. "Do you always wear those glasses?"

"Don't tell me you're unnerved by my glasses. Scott never takes his off, and his look a lot stranger than mine."

"Scott needs his because of an eye condition," Jean retorted.

"Then we have something in common."

"Yes, Rogue told us. Supposedly you're light-sensitive."

"Correct, except it's not a supposition at all."

"It's not exactly bright in here."

"It's bright enough. And again, this can't be the reason."

Jean didn't answer. After a few moments, Jeff shrugged and leaned back to enjoy the ride.

* * *

[Jean. 

[Yes, Professor?

[Can you feel his mind?

[No. It feels like Logan's the only other person here. Can you feel him?

[I feel something, Jean. More of an emptiness I cannot penetrate. I have never encountered shields like this.

[Should we confront him?

[No. I will try again when you arrive. I might be able to break through his shields at closer range.

[And if you can't? If he's really a telepath, how do we protect the others?

[If necessary, I will use Cerebro.

[If you're wrong, that might kill him.

[I know, Jean. I know.

_To Be Continued . . ._

* * *

**Author's Note**

I apologize for the weird format that telepathic speech comes out in. The original has closed brackets; I don't know why only the opening bracket shows up here on FF. I'll try to find some other way of delineating telepathic conversations (at which point this note will disappear); for now, though, it won't be much of a problem. That's the last such conversation the reader is privy to for at least the next nine issues.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed my story, as well as those who have put me on their update lists. I'm not going to say that more reviews mean more updates (I have, unfortunately, more important things to work on), but they do help me keep up my enthusiasm for the project. I'll also try to respond to each new reviewer individually, and hopefully repeat visitors as well.

Mourning Star's comment about Jeff's "Gary Stue" impression is pretty fair, but Lady Hour Glass has a point -- there's a lot more story to come, and Jeff is far from perfect or implausible. (Of course, the lovely Lady Hour Glass has an advantage, being one of my beta readers and already privy to the first nine installments.) Right now I'm working on Issue 10, so what you're reading is a very well-formed story that is, for the most part, set in stone. Suggestions are welcome, but keep in mind that they probably can't affect anything short of Issue 13 (the start of Volume 4: _Emerald Fury_).

The next update will be a few days early, as I'll be in Ireland on August 1st without regular Internet access. I'll be back on the 14th, though, so Issue 4 (the start of Volume 2: _Horizons_) will be up on time.

Thanks for reading!


	3. Issue 3: Brave New World: Answers

X-Men: Evolution

_  
Maverick_ #3:  
Brave New World, Part 3

_Answers_

by  
Bookwyrm

Welcome to Mutant High.

* * *

The Rolls-Royce quickly reached 1407 Grey Malkin, and the gates opened automatically as they approached. The Institute's grounds were huge, and decorated with clusters of trees, statues, and stone benches. Jeff had tried taking a look at the property with Google Earth, but Bayville itself was not highly detailed, much less the Institute. In fact, the Institute seemed even more blurry. 

The building at the center of the grounds was definitely a full-out mansion, not holding much resemblance to any kind of school Jeff knew. It had an odd sort of English style to it, with its grand windows and sweeping stone steps, though with a definite modern feel. They pulled up to the front steps, and Jeff, Logan, and Jean got out.

"Nice place," Jeff said honestly, looking around. "Where's that buzzing sound coming from, though?"

"Buzzing?" Logan asked, scowling -- or whatever that seemingly permanent expression was called.

"Yeah. It's weird, I can't figure out where it is." Jeff closed his eyes and concentrated on it. It really was an annoying sort of buzz, and getting louder all the time.

"You're hearing a buzz?" Jean asked, sounding interested all of a sudden.

Jeff stiffened suddenly as his world exploded in pain.

WHO ARE YOU?

Jeff grabbed his head and fell to his knees, a wave of pain and nausea overtaking him like nothing he had ever felt before.

WHO ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

_Go away!_

I SEE YOU. I SEE YOUR EVERY THOUGHT. YOU CAN HIDE NOTHING!

_Leave me alone!_

* * *

The next thing Jeff knew, Rogue was kneeling above him, silhouetted against an overly-bright sky. The pain in his head was gone, though he still felt queasy and more than a little dazed. He wondered how he had ended up on the ground; he had a vague memory of someone catching him. 

"You okay?" Rogue asked, sounding worried.

"Yeah," Jeff replied, his voice a bit raspy. He raised a hand to block the sun, and was surprised to find it trembling slightly. "Not sure what happened there. Where are my glasses?"

"Here." Rogue slipped them on his face, and Jeff reached up a hand to adjust them. Now that they were on, the sky dimmed to a more tolerable level.

"Mr. McGovern."

Jeff looked up over Rogue's head to see a bald man in a wheelchair at the top of the steps. Rogue looked as well, and Jeff was surprised to see a look of anger pass over her face. The bald man saw it too, and seemed disappointed. Or no; he was sad, like he didn't blame her for it but was hurt all the same.

The bald man carefully moved his motorized wheelchair down a ramp on the side of the steps. "Mr. McGovern," he said again as he came closer, "my name is Doctor Charles Xavier. Welcome to my Institute; I'm sorry for the fact that it does not seem pleasant so far."

Xavier held out his hand, and Jeff rose to shake it. "Not your fault, sir. Thanks for the invitation."

Xavier's smile wavered slightly. "Actually, it is my fault. But I should explain that inside."

"It is?" Jeff frowned. "You're saying you caused my headache?" _And the voice I heard?_

"Again," the man said, turning his chair around, "we should discuss this inside."

Jeff looked at Rogue, confused. She shook her head. "Just do it, Jeff," she said. "He's okay. There's just . . . something he needs to discuss with you."

"You know what it is?"

Rogue hesitated. "Yes," she said finally. "But it's . . . better if you hear it from him."

Jeff nodded, though he wanted to press her more. He and Rogue walked up the steps as Xavier exited his ramp. Logan and Jean followed them.

The inside of the mansion was just as impressive as the outside. The floor was covered in wall-to-wall carpets, the walls were decorated with expensive-looking paintings, the moldings were intricately carved hardwoods, and the lighting was chiefly due to ornate chandeliers.

"Nice place for a school," Jeff noted out loud.

Xavier looked back over his shoulder. "It was intended as a replica of my family home back in England. A stray bomb hit it on one of the last air raids of the war. My family was not there, fortunately. I never saw it myself, but built it for the memory of my parents. Even the artwork is what they chose themselves, though of course these are mere replicas."

"But then you turned it into a school?"

Xavier smiled, then turned his head back to negotiate a turn to go behind the fancy central staircase that Jean and Logan were walking up. "The school came later. It came to my attention that there are certain young people in the world with talents that go far beyond the norm, and there were few people qualified to guide them."

"And you're one of them?" Jeff asked, careful to keep the words from sounding like an accusation.

They stopped at a door behind the staircase, conspicuously lacking a handle. Rogue pushed a button on the wall beside it. Jeff was not surprised to see the door slide into the wall, revealing an elevator.

"I seem to have had some success," Xavier replied, moving into the elevator. Rogue and Jeff stepped inside as well. Rogue pushed another button, and the elevator began to rise.

Jeff nodded absently. "And what talents are you referring to?"

Xavier smiled. "That is precisely what I want to discuss with you, Mr. McGovern."

A few moments later, the elevator came to a stop, and the door opened to reveal the top of the staircase. Jean and Logan were waiting there, and once again followed as Xavier led them down a hall. They came to set of double doors, which Rogue opened to reveal a palatial-looking office. Bookcases lined two walls, and the third was filled with large windows. An unlit fireplace stood behind the large desk.

"Thank you, Rogue," Xavier said, as he went inside. "Would you please wait outside with Jean and Logan?"

"Professor?" Rogue asked, surprised.

"Please, Rogue," Xavier insisted, pivoting his chair to look at her. "I think it would be best if I spoke to Mr. McGovern in private."

Rogue looked at Xavier for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. She grabbed the door handles again and pulled them shut behind her.

Xavier motioned to one of the large leather chairs in front of the desk. "Please, Mr. McGovern, have a seat."

Jeff complied. "Alright, we're alone," he noted. "Now will you give me some answers?"

Xavier parked his wheelchair and folded his hands on the desk top. "Yes, of course. But first, a question of my own. What do you think of paranormal phenomena?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you believe in it?"

Jeff raised an eyebrow. "If I told you what I think about it, I'd have to call you Horatio."

Xavier smiled briefly. "Mm, quite. So you have an open mind about such things?"

"There's a Chinese proverb I like. 'A closed mind is like a closed book: just a block of wood.'"

"Do you ever give a straight answer?" Xavier asked, a bit of frustration showing through.

"Only to a straight question," Jeff answered.

Xavier paused, then sat back in his chair. "Fair enough. I'll stop beating around the bush.

"You have to understand, Mr. McGovern, that ordinarily the proofs of what I am about to tell you can be delivered very easily. However, in your case, I am faced with a rather unique obstacle. So, if you'll forgive me, this will involve a bit of a story."

Xavier steepled his hands in front of him. "Throughout human history, people have been born who possess rare gifts that go beyond the norm. Often, these are only marginally so -- slightly better strength, a touch faster or smarter, an uncanny ability to read people. But every so often, such a gift will border on the supernatural."

"So that's what the 'gifted youngsters' bit's about," Jeff noted. "I thought it didn't quite fit."

Xavier nodded. "Yes, you looked into their test scores."

"How'd you know about that?"

Xavier waved a hand. "I'll explain in a moment. Yes, this is a center for paranormal research. But it is also a home, where these children can come together with others who face similar problems. And, hopefully, help in turn the thousands of others in the world."

"But I thought you said it was a rare 'gift,'" Jeff pointed out.

"I did," Xavier admitted. "Most of the gene sequences are not dominant. However, over the millennia, these sequences have become more common, and more and more of these gifts are manifesting. In particular, in the last seventy years, the number of these gifted individuals have increased exponentially. I should stress as well that the seemingly supernatural aspects have increased accordingly. It is becoming difficult to keep track of these mutations."

Xavier paused. "You don't believe a word I'm saying, do you?"

"Frankly, no," Jeff said. "Not without proof, at least. Why haven't we heard of such people, if there are so many?"

"You have," Xavier answered. "But the majority of individuals with mutant abilities have low-grade powers, typically manifesting during puberty. Many become athletes. Others are affected physically, beyond typical human appearance, and go into hiding to escape persecution. Low-level telepaths and empaths normally find work as fortune tellers, though some join law enforcement agencies. I believe you have heard of John Douglas?"

Jeff nodded. "FBI profiler. The best profiler in history. He could figure out people in a heartbeat, and judge what sort of person could have committed violent crimes. Now retired. I actually just finished his book _Mindhunter_. And somehow I think it's not a coincidence that you bring him up."

"No. Rogue mentioned you were reading that book. I thought he would make a good example."

"I see. So you're saying he's a telepath?"

"An empath. He can read emotions very easily, and it gave him the insight he needed to understand a criminal's mind." Xavier looked away for a moment. "I met with him once, but I never told him the truth. His mutant power was never the direct cause of his success; it just gave him a leg up. I didn't want to risk him giving up trying to teach others to do what he does."

He looked back at Jeff. "And he was a prime example of someone who had adapted to the world. There are others who have a more difficult time with the transition. Those are the ones I seek to help with this Institute.

"As I said, ordinarily I have a very simple way of convincing people I am telling the truth. However, you are a special case."

Jeff tilted his head. "And why is that?"

Xavier raised a hand. "I think it best that I offer alternative proof first."

On that cue, the doors opened again, and Jean and Logan stepped inside. Jeff looked, but didn't see Rogue before Jean closed the doors.

"Where's Rogue?" he asked.

Jean answered him. "She went back to her room. She wanted to be alone."

Jeff frowned, but didn't ask any more.

"You've already met Jean and Logan," Xavier said. "They've agreed to demonstrate their abilities for you."

Jean pointed to one of the bookcases. "Would you please choose a random book?"

Jeff blinked, then shrugged. He stood up and walked over to a bookcase next to the one she'd been pointing at. Jean didn't object, so it didn't seem to be a set up of some sort.

"Let me guess," he said as he pulled one volume down. "You want me to pick a page, and you'll read my mind to see what's on it."

Jean smiled. "No. Check to make certain that it doesn't have any hidden wires or devices."

Jeff complied, a bit bemused. "It appears to be a book," he said ironically, looking at the cover. "Hm. B. F. Skinner. Never heard of him."

"Toss it in the air."

Jeff hesitated. "I don't want to damage it."

"You won't."

Jeff looked at Xavier, who nodded. Jeff shrugged again. "Okay. If you insist." He tossed it hard enough to hit the high ceiling.

It never reached it. Instead, the book stopped in midair. The cover, splayed out by the force of the throw, snapped closed. The book floated gently across the room to Jean's waiting hand. She looked at him expectantly.

Jeff blinked, silent for about half a minute. Finally, he said, "That was different."

"I'm telekinetic," Jean explained. "It means I can move things with my mind."

"I know what telekinesis is, thank you," Jeff replied. "Now I understand that bit about wires and the random selection. You wanted me to know it wasn't rigged."

"Exactly." The book floated back over to its original place on the shelf.

Jeff looked at Logan. "What about you? Do you turn invisible?"

"Nah, bub." Logan held his fist out in front of him. "But I got these."

With a sound of metal on metal, three blades seemed to simply sprout from between his knuckles.

Jeff took a step back in surprise. "Wow."

"What, a book flying across the room rates second to these things?" Logan snorted. He flexed his muscles and the blades snapped back, disappearing into his arm.

"Telekinesis I've heard of," Jeff explained. "People being born with metal parts is completely new."

"I wasn't born with 'em," Logan growled. "And before ya ask, kid, it's a long story and I don't feel like tellin' ya."

"Right. Sure." Jeff shook his head. "Fine by me. But if you change your mind, I'd like to hear the story."

"I trust this is sufficient proof?" Xavier asked, obviously amused.

Jeff had to chuckle himself. "Yeah, I'd say so. I can't come up with anyway to fake either of those tricks, at least not off the top of my head. So everyone here can do stuff like that?"

"The Institute currently has seventeen children, as well as four adults who act as mentors. That includes myself, of course. Every one of the students has some ability that requires training, which we provide."

"In exchange for what?" Jeff asked.

Xavier sighed. "As I told you, many mutants have difficulties adapting to society. Equally so, society has a difficult time adapting to mutants. The Institute's long-term goal is to demonstrate, at whatever time the mutant secret becomes public knowledge, that mutants are not to be feared. That we can peacefully coexist with 'normal' humans."

"'We'?"

Xavier smiled again. "Yes, I am a mutant myself." He gestured at a pen on the desk. It floated upwards, spinning, and then dropped again. "I have a minor telekinetic power, though it is generally only good for parlor tricks like that. My true ability is telepathy."

"Which you normally use to demonstrate things to people," Jeff guessed.

"Very good." Xavier nodded.

_That explains the voice I heard . . . except . . ._ "Should I assume that the reason you didn't do that with me is connected to why you're telling me this in the first place?"

Logan crossed his arms and leaned on the back of one of the leather chairs. "Kid's smart, Chuck."

"That's correct," Xavier said to Jeff. "You recall your headache a few minutes ago?"

"Yes," Jeff answered, wincing at the memory. "I'm not likely to forget that one any time soon. That's what getting your mind read feels like?"

"Not normally," Jean answered. "But you don't even show up on normal telepathic scans. I've got the ability to read minds too, but I can't feel you at all."

"It took a close-range push even for me," Xavier said. "I apologize for the intrusion, Mr. McGovern."

Jeff frowned. "So you _did _read my mind."

"Only long enough to make certain that you weren't a threat," Xavier answered. "Ordinarily, people with mental shields as strong as yours are powerful telepaths. I couldn't take the chance that you were trying to attack us."

"Not all mutants are as cuddly as we are," Logan said, smirking.

"So I'm a telepath, then?" Jeff asked, confused.

Xavier shook his head. "No. No, you're something far more rare. Unique, in my knowledge. I'm not certain how you do it; but then, I'm not certain how any of us do what we do. However you manage it, you seem to have the ability to cancel out other mutant powers."

Jeff frowned again. "So I'm like an anti-mutant?"

"No, I wouldn't say that," Xavier answered. "But you do somehow prevent other powers from affecting you. As well, if a mutant is touching you, that mutant can't use his own powers." He raised an eyebrow. "I found this out myself when I shook your hand. The experience was rather uncomfortable."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. You have no control over this."

Jeff took a moment to think that over. "That's how you knew about me in the first place. Because I touched Rogue."

Xavier nodded. "Skin contact. Rogue has a unique power, one with a tragic consequence. Effectively, she is a touch-telepath, but she can't control the ability. If she touches any other human, she will absorb their thoughts in mere seconds. Their very personality will become part of her. As well, their life-force, if you will, is absorbed almost as quickly. A person can be rendered unconscious in as little as two seconds, depending on the amount of skin contact. If she holds on too long, the other person will lapse into a coma."

Jeff suddenly remembered Scott Summers' tirade the day he met Rogue. Specifically, he remembered Scott mentioning the risk of placing someone into a coma.

"I touched her yesterday," Jeff repeated. "Skin to skin."

"Yes." Xavier looked at him, his eyes steady. "And you were unharmed."

Jeff looked at Logan and Jean. Logan's expression hadn't changed; he was still smirking, though did nothing to soften the hard look in his eye. Jean looked . . . concerned.

"Mr. McGovern, I'd like to make you an offer," Xavier said. "I'd like you to join the Institute."

"Why?" Jeff asked, looking back at him. "You said yourself that the Institute was for people who had a hard time fitting in or controlling their powers. It seems that whatever I do, I do it naturally. There's nothing to control."

"We don't know that yet," Xavier pointed out. "It could be that your ability can be trained. But that aside, and I hope you'll forgive me for being blunt, I would like to study you. I told you before that I don't know how exactly our powers work. By studying the way our powers interact with yours, I might learn more."

"Lemme tell you something, bub," Logan spoke up. "We aren't the only group of mutants out there. Most of 'em don't believe in all that 'peaceful coexistence' stuff. Can't say I blame some of them, considering the way normals treat us. But there's one group who's lookin' for outright war." He pointed a finger at Jeff. "We're trying to stop that. The more you can do to help us, the more we know about mutants, the better chance we have of makin' things turn out right with normals, an' keepin' the warmongers out of the picture."

War. The idea seemed preposterous to Jeff, but as he thought about it, he could understand it. As a kid, he'd looked to martial arts as a way to seek revenge. The discipline that came with it helped him realize it was a lot better to never have to throw a punch in the first place. But what if he'd gotten the physical training without the mental half? He'd probably have gone on a bloody rampage, that's what.

Logan looked like a killer himself, and those claws could probably do a lot of damage. Jean could lift things with a thought; a perfect thief, or even an assassin. And Xavier -- if he could cause headaches in a person apparently resistant to telepathy, what could he do to a normal human?

A mutant with these abilities, but none of the discipline, and faced with rejection by "normal" people, would probably just give into his desires. Yes, Jeff could see how war could become a serious topic.

But was he ready to commit?

Jeff shook his head. "I don't know. I only just found out about this. It's a big step to join sides in a secret war I don't really know anything about."

"We ain't askin' you to fight, kid," Logan told him. "Just let Chuck here poke and prod you with his gizmos."

"Maybe a trial basis?" Jean suggested. "Stay here a few nights. Get to know us. Join some of the training. Leave anytime you want to."

Jeff considered it. "What about my uncle?"

"From the brief impression I had of him in your mind, I think he would trust you," Xavier said.

"Yes, but I don't want to lie to him."

"If necessary, you can tell him," Xavier said, though he didn't look happy about it.

Jeff thought about it for a little while longer, then gave a reluctant nod. "Okay. I'll do it. Trial basis. If my uncle agrees. But no tests until I say so."

Xavier smiled. "Quite acceptable, Mr. McGovern."

"You might as well call me Jeff now," Jeff pointed out.

"Very well, Jeff. Would you like to call your uncle?"

"Um, not at the moment, if you don't mind," Jeff said, hesitating. "I'd like to do something first."

* * *

Rogue was lying on her bed when she heard a knock on her door. "Go away, Jean!" she yelled. "Keep out of my thoughts!" 

"It's not Jean," came Jeff's voice.

Rogue shot upright, running a hand through her hair. "Oh! Um, come in?"

The door opened, and Jeff leaned into the room. "Hi. Is this a bad time?"

"No," Rogue lied.

Jeff walked in, looking around. "Nice room," he said.

Rogue became acutely aware of the posters she'd hung up, mostly of bands like Guns'N'Roses and Korn. They really didn't match the original look of the room. Of course, the astronomy posters on the other side of the room stood out too.

"It's a place to sleep in," Rogue said, her careless tone at odds with how she was fiddling with one of her white locks of hair. She moved to the edge of her bed, drawing one leg up under her.

"I'll take a wild stab and say that Kitty's your roommate," Jeff said mildly, looking at the astronomy posters and the small telescope standing in one corner.

"Yeah."

They were silent for a while. Finally, Rogue spoke up again. "So . . . did the Prof tell ya everythin'?"

"About mutants? Yeah." Jeff nodded.

Rogue waited, but Jeff didn't say anything. "What d'you think about it?"

Jeff scratched his head. "It's interesting."

Rogue looked at him. "Really?"

"Yeah, of course. I just saw a book fly across a room, and a guy who apparently grows metal blades."

"Actually, they stay in his arms," Rogue told him. "He's got that metal all over his bones."

"Huh. Sounds uncomfortable."

"Yeah, he doesn't much like it."

"He said there's a story behind it, but he didn't feel like telling me. Hopefully I can change his mind."

"So . . ." Rogue hesitated. "So you ain't weirded out or anythin'?"

Jeff looked straight at her. Or at least Rogue thought he was; all she could see in his glasses was the reflection of her room.

"Were you worried about that?"

Rogue shrugged and looked away. "Most people are."

Jeff sat down on the bed next to her. "Were you worried that's how I'd react to you?"

Rogue didn't answer.

"Rogue, nothing's changed. We're still friends."

"But you didn't know what I was yesterday. What I am."

Jeff smirked. "So now I know you're a mutant. So what? So am I. You didn't know that about me, either."

"Did the Prof tell you what my power is?"

"Yes."

"An' it doesn't bother you?"

Jeff hesitated, then put his hand on her cast. "Of course it bothers me."

Rogue looked at him, surprised. Jeff smiled gently.

"Why wouldn't it?" he asked. "You can't touch people. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Not even my greatest enemy."

Rogue blinked back tears, looking at herself in Jeff's glasses. It was hard to read his expression with those things hiding his eyes, but she couldn't see a trace of pity. Just . . . compassion.

"I'm like a vampire," she told him. "Anyone I touch just starts . . . dying. I suck them up."

Jeff raised an eyebrow. "You know, you'd probably look cute with pointy teeth."

Rogue gave a surprised snort. "What the heck's that supposed to mean?" she asked, smiling in spite of herself.

"Nothing." Jeff smiled back. "Just trying to make you laugh."

Rogue shook her head. "So, what else did the Prof say?"

"That's the gist of it," Jeff told her. "He also invited me to stay."

"Are you?"

"I think so. For a little while, anyway."

"That's good." Rogue placed her free hand over his. "I'd like that."

"I'll just have to get permission from my uncle," Jeff added, "but I doubt that will be a problem."

Rogue nodded absently, then pulled both her hands free from his.

"What's wrong?" Jeff asked.

"Nothing. Well . . ." Rogue looked down at her hands. "Do you know how long it's been since I touched someone? Without hurting them, that is?"

"About eight years?"

Rogue blinked. "How'd you know?"

"Dr. Xavier said most mutant abilities start at puberty." Jeff shrugged. "I just guessed."

"Oh." Rogue looked down again. "'Course, I didn't know about my powers for that long. It only started about a year and a half ago. I guess it was just luck I started dressin' like this. Then I nearly put a boy in a coma just by dancing with him."

Jeff placed his hand on her shoulder, but didn't say anything. Rogue could feel his warmth through her shirt. She wanted to lean in closer, but in the past year and a half she had built up a habit that was very hard to break.

But here was someone she could touch. The only person in the world she couldn't hurt.

Impulsively, Rogue tugged at her one glove, her left hand feeling awkward in the partial cast. She shifted to face Jeff, and lifted her bare hand to his face. She hesitated, both out of fear and to give him time to pull away. He didn't, and her fingers brushed his cheek.

Nothing happened. No rush of memories. No influx of power. No vertigo as she briefly saw the world out of another's eyes.

She touched him again, this time resting her fingers on him. For the first time in years, she felt another's skin beneath her fingers. Rogue traced the line of his jaw, smiling as she found his pulse.

Jeff smiled back, and reached up to touch her cheek as well. Rogue froze at the contact, but then she leaned into his hand. Obligingly, he pressed his palm against her, cupping her face. She closed her eyes, partly to hide the tears that were starting to well up.

She felt his weight shift, and a moment later his arms were around her. The dam broke, and almost a decade of solitude came pouring out in a flood of tears.

* * *

"No, Uncle Sean, it's not a question of money. Dr. Xavier's offering me a scholarship. Yes. Yes, room and board included. Well, I said I'd think about it. Well, no, I figured I had to talk to you about it. What do you mean, why? You're my legal guardian, that's why. Okay, fine. Yes. Well, Dr. Xavier said I can try it out, and leave at any time. Okay? Sure. Talk to you soon." 

Jeff shook his head as he hung up Rogue's phone. "He said yes," he told Rogue, who was re-applying her makeup after her crying spell. "Actually, he wanted to know why I wasn't coming by for my bags at once so he could have the apartment back to himself again."

Rogue frowned. "That doesn't sound nice."

"Hm? Oh, it's just Uncle Sean being himself." Jeff shrugged. "He's a bleeding heart, but he likes to pretend he isn't. If it weren't against the building rules, he'd probably have about five pets, all strays." He brushed at his tear-stained shirt.

Rogue saw the motion in the mirror. "Sorry about that," she mumbled, embarrassed.

"Eh, it's water. Well, and salt. But it'll dry." Jeff smirked. "If anyone asks, you can tell them I was drooling over Kitty's telescope."

Rogue fought a frown. "Is it that good?"

"Well, it's better than mine," Jeff admitted. "Anyway, think you could show me around?"

"Sure," Rogue said, putting her materials away and giving her face a last check for streaks and smudges. "Goth Chick Tours, at your service."

They stepped out of the room, only to be nearly knocked over by what seemed to be a set of at least six identical young boys. They were running down the hall at full speed, chased by a larger boy who looked like he had electricity crackling around his arms.

"Multiple!" the single boy shouted, obviously angry. "Stand still! All of you!"

"Berzerker, stop pickin' on Multiple!" Rogue shouted after them. "Or I'll use your own power on you!" She glared at them as they rounded a corner.

"Um, does that happen often?" Jeff asked hesitantly.

"Kinda." Rogue started walking in the direction the group had come from.

Jeff hurried behind her. "What were those names you used?"

"Oh, Berzerker and Multiple? That's what we call them."

"Sounds like call signs."

"Yeah, kinda." They took another turn, and found themselves in the large foyer with the ornate staircase. "Most of us have them, everyone but the Prof and Jean."

"So that's why you're called Rogue?"

Rogue shook her head. "Nah. It was my nickname before I ever heard of mutants. We just treat it like a codename."

"Oh." Jeff was silent for a moment. "Well, what are Kurt and Kitty's call signs?"

"Kurt's Nightcrawler, Kitty's Shadowcat."

"Nightcrawler?" Jeff blinked. "As in the little worm used for fishbait?"

"Huh?" Rogue looked at him, surprised. "No. He's not . . . is it really a worm?"

"Yeah. It's an earthworm used in salt-water fishing. My uncle prefers them."

Rogue smirked. "I'll have to remember that."

"Oh! Rogue! Jeff!"

"Speak of the little devilboy . . ." Rogue muttered.

A strange creature came bounding up the side of the staircase, clinging to the walls like a four-legged jumping spider. It was human-shaped, but every inch of exposed flesh was covered in blue fur. Its face was highly demonic in appearance, with fangs, red eyes, and pointed ears. The image was only enhanced by the tail that whipped behind the creature.

It finally came to a stop in front of Rogue and Jeff, perched like a bird on the railing. Jeff noticed that the creature's feet were bare, and only had two toes. It waved a three-fingered hand and said, in Kurt Wagner's voice, "Hiya, Jeff! Professor X said you're going to be staying with us! This is so cool!"

Jeff stared in surprise. The absurd thought _So the Devil is German?_ floated through his mind before the demon's voice fully registered. "Kurt?" he asked. Actually, as he looked closer, Jeff could see a definite resemblance to the fair-skinned boy he knew from school.

"Kurt, do you really think this is the best way to introduce him to the way you really look?" Rogue asked, obviously amused.

The blue demon spread his arms innocently. "What? He'd have to find out sooner or later, ja?"

"Let me guess," Jeff said, mostly recovered. "You're a shapeshifter?"

"No, but this works almost as well." The blue demon touched a device on his arm with one long finger, and he seemed to twist like a the image on an out-of-tune television. A heartbeat later, Kurt Wagner was perched precariously on the railing.

"It's a hologram," Kitty said as she walked up the stairs to join them. "Professor X gave it to him so he could walk out in public."

"Ja, it's cool," Kurt said happily. "I can even load three different outfits into it at a time." He pressed a button on what now appeared to be a normal wristwatch, and suddenly he was wearing shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. "Of course, it's only an image. Under all this, I'm still blue and fuzzy." He pressed the watch again, and the blue demon form was back.

"Oh, so that's why you didn't shake my hand on Monday," Jeff said, remembering.

"Ja." Demon-Kurt grinned, showing off his fangs. "Hard to hide that I've only got three fingers, and all of them fuzzy. But anyway, I can also teleport. I'll show you!"

"Don't!" Rogue snapped. Kurt froze, looking confused. "I don't want that stink," she explained. "Show him outside. Or when I ain't around."

"Oh, alright," Kurt said, disappointed.

"Stink?" Jeff asked, one eyebrow raised.

"When he teleports, there's a cloud of sulphur dioxide at both locations," Kitty explained. "He moves briefly through another universe of some kind when he does it, and some of the environment leaks through."

"Oh." Jeff considered it for a moment. "Compressed space with relative points?"

Kitty shrugged. "Near as we can tell. We tried some experiments last spring, but we had to stop them before we got a lot of answers."

Jeff shook his head. "I can think of about a dozen cosmologists, astrophysicists, and mathematicians who would love to help. Say, did you read that article on superstring theory I mentioned? It sounds like it applies here."

Rogue arched an eyebrow. "Mind switching to a topic I don't need a geek degree to join in?"

Jeff looked at her, apologetic. "Sorry. So, Kitty, what's your power?"

"Oh, I can phase through solid objects," Kitty said brightly. She waved her hand through the railing to demonstrate. It passed through the wood and metal like they weren't there. "Liquids, too, but they're harder."

"Nice," Jeff said, appreciative. "Any particular solids give you trouble?"

"Electronics." Kitty rolled her eyes. "They, like, explode if I'm not careful. And I can cause overloads on normal power lines as well. So we think my power works on some kind of electron shell manipulation, y'know?"

"But you're wearing an electronic watch."

"Yeah, but I can, like, do small amounts easily. As long as I'm careful, it's like other solids."

"What about spontaneous nuclear fusion? Shouldn't that happen when you pass through another object?"

"What?" Kurt jerked back in surprise, and wrapped his tail around the railing to keep from falling.

"Nuclear?" Rogue repeated, just as shocked.

Kitty shrugged, looking between the two of them. "Well, like, theoretically, when I pass through something at least some of my atoms should get close enough to other atoms to be affected by the strong nuclear force and fuse together. But that doesn't seem to be happening. No radiation."

"And no foreign particles?" Jeff asked.

"Not a one that we've seen. For some reason I can just expel foreign matter. Though that's just me; I can phase other objects through things and leave them there. Makes for a great hiding place."

"That seems to mean you don't just cancel out the electron shells."

"Well, outright cancelling, yeah. But it's got to have something to do with it. Otherwise the electrical readings shouldn't be what they are."

"How's density affect it? You move faster through denser matter?"

Rogue cleared her throat.

Jeff looked startled, then contrite. "Sorry," he said again.

"Hey, wait," Kitty said, snapping her fingers. "You need to meet Dr. McCoy! He's just downstairs. I'll let him know it's safe to come out." She jumped in place, but when she came back down she didn't stop. Instead, she disappeared through the floor as if it weren't there.

Jeff stared at the spot she phased into. "Okay. Wow."

"Yeah, I know," Rogue said, a touch of irritation in her voice. "It's really annoying in the morning. She'll just phase through whatever's in her way, including people. I've seen her do that for almost a year now and I'm still not used to it." She looked at Jeff, who hadn't moved. "Hey, Earth to geek boy."

Jeff turned his head in her direction. "Hm? Sorry, just noticing that gravity was still affecting her. Not that it's really that surprising. After all, gravity still affects energy waves by bending the space it travels through . . ."

Rogue threw her arms up. "Maybe I should stop trying. You two are going to be like your own science club. Who am I to stop fate?"

"Somebody mentioned a science club?"

Rogue, Kurt, and Jeff turned to look at the stairs. Kitty was coming up them again, almost skipping. With her was a creature that looked like nothing so much as a blue-furred cross between a gorilla and a Wookie. It wore pants and a polo shirt that both looked big enough to form a pup tent.

"Jeff, this is Doctor Hank McCoy," Kitty said, waving at the alien gorilla. "Dr. McCoy, this is Jeff McGovern."

"Pleased to meet you," said the gorilla, holding out a hand. "Nice to have someone else around with a clan name. Irish or Scottish, if I might ask?"

"Um, both," Jeff answered, taking McCoy's hand. He couldn't close his own around it. "The name's Irish. I'm mostly English, though."

"Ah. Well, we can't all be perfect." McCoy smiled, obviously trying not to show his teeth. He only partially succeeded.

"I'm sorry if I seem rude," Jeff began, holding a finger up inn hesitation. "I'm a little new to all this stuff . . ."

"Certainly, certainly. Ask away."

"Well . . . how exactly can you have a doctoral degree?"

"Oh, right. I didn't always look like this. I got my degree just before I . . . changed. It's in biochemistry, if you were wondering. I was hoping to get another PhD in genetics, but I doubt I could successfully defend the dissertation now."

"No . . . I suppose not." There was an awkward moment, and Jeff cleared his throat. "So," he continued, more cheerfully, "what do they call you? The Intelligible Species?"

McCoy leaned his head back and literally roared with laughter. The four teens jumped back, and McCoy did his best to stifle the sound.

"Sorry, sorry," McCoy said, waving one huge hand in what was obviously intended as a calming gesture. "No, Jeff," he continued between fits of deep-throated chuckles, "though that's a very good one. It's too long, though, and I doubt most people could get it. No, I'm just Beast."

"Speaking of which," Kurt said, hopping down off the railing, "we need to think of a code name for you, Jeff."

"Why?" Jeff asked. "I don't even know if I'm staying more than a few days."

"Oh, come on, Jeff!" Kurt insisted, flipping his tail. "It's tradition!"

"Tradition that at least two people don't follow."

"Oh, Dr. Xavier has one," Kitty told him. "We call him Professor X. He just never uses it himself. And Jean just can't decide."

"It can't hurt," McCoy added, spreading his huge arms slightly.

"It needs to be something catchy," Kurt said, pacing back and forth. It was rather odd watching him walk; unlike more normal humans, the young German boy never touched his heels to the ground, and rather walked on his toes the way most animals did. "'Blockade' fits your power, but it's just not catchy enough. Hmm."

"It doesn't have to fit the power," Kitty pointed out. "I'm Shadowcat, remember."

"And you're Nightcrawler," Rogue added.

Kurt stopped, confused. "What's my name got to do with it? I crawl on walls, and I blend into the night. _Der Nachtkriecker_. The night-crawler. I know it doesn't say anything about my teleport power, but that didn't come until a few years ago."

"But a nightcrawler is a worm," Rogue said innocently.

"It is not!" Kurt protested.

"Is too."

"Is not!"

"Such maturity," Jeff murmured.

Dr. McCoy gave him an amused glance. "She's right, Kurt," he told the other boy. "It's a worm."

"Used for fishbait." Rogue looked smug.

Kurt looked to Jeff for help, but Jeff just shrugged and smiled. Kurt folded his arms and looked sullen. "Well, it sounds better in German anyway."

"I've got a suggestion for a name," Rogue said, deciding not to carry the teasing any further.

"Oh?" Jeff prompted.

"Remember on Monday, you quoted a movie line at me?"

Jeff thought back. "Yeah. _Top Gun_."

"Well, how about 'Maverick'?"

"It doesn't fit his power," Kurt muttered.

"It kinda does," Kitty said. "I mean, a maverick was an un-branded cow, and today it means someone who doesn't follow all the rules. Jeff's kind of breaking the rules for mutants."

"Yeah," Rogue concurred. Of course, she hadn't known that before. She'd just thought it was a good name.

"Oh." Kurt considered it. "Okay, I guess so."

"I think I can live with it," Jeff said, nodding. "Maverick it is."

Kurt slapped Jeff on the back. "Welcome to the X-Men, Maverick!"

_Conclusion of "Brave New World"_

_To Be Continued  
in Maverick, Volume 2:_  
"_Horizons_"

* * *

**Next:**  
With new knowledge comes new dangers, and not everyone is friendly to Bayville's latest mutant. Principal Kelly, the school football team, the Brotherhood . . . Jeff's list of enemies just keep growing. And who is this Magneto he keeps hearing about?

* * *

**Author's Note**

I hope you've all enjoyed the first story-arc of this series. I appreciate all the wonderful comments I'm getting. I appreciate the negative criticism as well, though you all might want to hold off on judging too soon. This is a slow-paced series, and on top of that I hate being obvious. Keep an eye on the details; I enjoy narrative misdirection as well as set-up/payoff.

Roguefan's comment about Jeff being overpowered is a surprise to me. Previously I've had complaints about him being underpowered. Hopefully the information given in this issue brings his ability into better focus (though there are aspects of his power yet to be discovered by the characters).

I hope you all liked my background on the mansion itself. I've never been quite fine with how the school is in a mansion; it's just too convenient, especially with all the extra gadgets lying around. I thought that if it were a school/headquarters built to resemble the owner's ancestral home, rather than the owner's own home converted to the high-tech headquarters, it would feel more believable. (Besides, if the building and the artwork are all replicas, it would explain why the Prof is so sanguine while Nightcrawler and Toad trash the place in the first episode.)

The backstory on mutants is a bit long and might be boring for some. I just wanted to give some other explanation for mutant powers than "next stage in evolution." (If evolution is random, then it not only doesn't have "stages" but also shouldn't be happening all at the same time.)

Finally, congratulations to anyone who gets the "intelligible species" reference (without typing it into a search engine, that is).

I won't be able to respond to any comments until it's time for the next update, but don't let that stop you from writing reviews and sending emails!


	4. Issue 4: Horizons: A New Beginning

Hello again everyone! Sorry this is a day late; I finished cleaning the latest installment up on time, but didn't actually have Internet access yesterday.

Ireland was great, if any of you were wondering. I managed to make the Crough Patrick climb in four hours, round-trip (the average is three and a half hours). For perspective, I'm mildly handicapped, and use a cane every so often, so it's a big achievement for me. If you don't know what Crough Patrick is, look it up; it'll also be mentioned in the fourth Maverick volume, _Emerald Fury_, when another mutant arrives from Ireland.

So far, out of the nine issues I've written, number four is by far the longest. I think a lot of it drags, though other people tell me it's just right. Either way, there wasn't much I could do about it.

Thanks for all the comments! I'll try to reply to each of you soon.

* * *

X-Men: Evolution

_  
Maverick_ #4:  
Horizons, Part 1

_A New Beginning_

by  
Bookwyrm

Uniforms? We Don't Need No Stinking Uniforms.

* * *

Jean yawned and stretched as she walked to the kitchen. No one else in the mansion was awake yet, but that was normal. Jean usually got up around six, even on Sundays. She didn't usually take breakfast with the others. Not that Dr. McCoy's cooking was bad, of course. She just liked quiet when she ate -- and meals at the Institute were rarely quiet. Even Logan wasn't usually around at this hour, preferring to use this time for exercise. 

Which was why Jean was surprised to find the light on in the kitchen, and the sound of someone cooking at the stove. She couldn't sense anyone inside, which meant only one person could be in there.

Jean considered going away, but she knew that she had to face Jeff sooner or later. She pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Jeff McGovern was working at the counter, grating cheese. Something was sizzling in a pan; onions, from the smell.

Jean reached out with her mind to feel his. Of course, she came up empty, just as she knew she would. It was like trying not to scratch at an itch, or wiggle a loose tooth. It wasn't a problem until she realized how it felt. She didn't like it.

"You just going to stand there, Jean?" Jeff asked.

Jean started. "How'd you know I was here?"

Jeff waved the cheese grater at the window. It was still dark enough out that the kitchen light turned it into a mirror, and Jean realized she could see his face.

"Oh." Jean felt a bit stupid.

"Want an omelet?"

"Um . . . sure." Jean normally just made scrambled eggs and bacon, but she didn't want to seem to be rejecting him.

"Okay. The onions are almost done. I chopped up a little too much, so there's plenty for both of us."

"You fry the onions first?" Jean asked, trying to make conversation.

"I like to. It makes them sweeter."

"Oh." Jean sat down at the central counter. "So, um, you're up early." _Wow, that was lame._

Jeff shrugged. "I don't sleep much. I guess it's part of me being a mutant, but then it's not unheard of."

"How much do you normally need?"

"About two hours a day, on average. Sometimes I just skip nights."

"So you skipped last night?"

"Yeah. And the night before." Jeff looked up at the ceiling, considering. "I've been up for, oh, about fifty hours or so."

"Wow." Jean felt a little envious. "I only did that once, and that was with a lot of coffee. And I was about ready to drop dead at fifty hours. How much caffeine have you had?"

"None. It doesn't affect me."

"At all?"

"Nope. I don't even get caffeine headaches." Jeff poured a small bowl of thoroughly beaten eggs over the sizzling onions. "So, among other things, I never had to force myself to like coffee."

"I see." Jean used her power to open the large refrigerator and collect three more eggs for Jeff, who caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. He was momentarily taken aback to see them hovering in wait for him.

"Thanks," he said, gingerly taking them out of the air. He broke the shells and emptied them into the bowl.

"So, are you moved in?" Jean asked, as she sent a cup to go collect orange juice.

"Mostly," Jeff told her, beating the eggs. "Some of my stuff's still over at my uncles. Most of my clothes are here, though. And a lot of my books. It's really a lot more than I need for the few days I promised, but Kurt, Roberto, and Logan all insisted. They really want me to stay."

"Roberto and Kurt want a male majority," Jean told him. "You make the genders equal again. As for Logan, he just likes anyone who can hold their own in a fight."

Jeff's hands paused for a moment, then resumed their motion. "It must be nice being a telepath."

"What?" Jean was momentarily confused, but then grew upset. "I didn't read their minds, if that's what you're implying. I don't do that sort of thing without permission. I overheard them talking. Perfectly ordinary."

"So that's not the reason you find me so uncomfortable?"

Jean opened her mouth, but closed it a moment later. Jeff let her sit without saying anything more, instead flipping the omelet to cook the other side.

"I didn't try reading your mind until yesterday," she said finally. "It was supposed to be just a surface skim. I did it to Rogue as well. I needed to know what happened."

Jeff turned his head to look at her for the first time since she came in. "Don't be so defensive. I really don't care. You're obviously not someone who would abuse your power."

"But you just said--"

"I know what I said. And I still figured you got it telepathically. But it's not like it was a personal secret, and Kurt and Roberto told me about the gender representation themselves anyway." Jeff began sprinkling cheese on the omelet. "I went back and talked to Dr. Xavier for a while, asking about the details of certain mutant powers. He mentioned that telepathy and empathy is very hard to turn off, so I figured that this was why you were finding me strange."

Jean blinked. She thought back for a moment. When she was at school, she kept her shields up at all times, but with that many people things would certainly leak through. Was her dislike of him simply because she hadn't been sensing anything from him? That he didn't feel natural because she was missing certain mental cues?

Jean shook her head, as if to clear it. "So, what, are you apologizing for your power?"

"Maybe." Jeff folded the omelet in half and put it on a plate, which he carried over to her. "I'm not used to having a power to apologize for. I suppose that even if it is the source of whatever uncomfortableness you have about me, there's nothing that an apology can do."

A fork removed itself from its drawer and came floating over to Jean's plate. "I suppose not," she said, looking down at the omelet. The fork moved a bite up to her mouth.

Jeff watched with interest. "That's going to take some getting used to," he noted, before turning back to cook his own omelet.

Jean chewed and swallowed. "Sorry. I do it to practice. This is really good."

"Thanks."

Jean watched him as he laid out the ingredients for his own omelet. Her telekinetically controlled fork spun slowly in the air. "Jeff?" she said finally.

"Yes?"

"May I ask you a personal question?"

"You can ask."

"What exactly are your feelings towards Rogue?"

Jeff didn't answer for a moment, but then turned back around to look at her. "You weren't kidding about the personal bit," he noted.

Jean felt a flash of irritation at how she couldn't read him at all. He was right about the source of her discomfort. Ordinarily she could get telltales out of someone without even thinking about it. Now he was as blank to her as to anyone else.

"If you don't want to answer, you don't have to," Jean said, feeling defensive under his gaze.

"Why do you want to know?"

Jean looked down at her omelet, buying time by taking another bite. "Well," she said finally, "you're the only boy she's ever met that can touch her. She wants that more than anything in the world. She wants to touch people. And you seem halfway decent, at least. And she seems to like you. So . . . ."

"So you want to be certain I'm not going to take advantage of her."

Jean avoided looking at his face. "Kind of. Yeah. She's family. No matter how she might try to push us away, we care about her."

"I feel like I should be getting this from a father while he polishes his gun."

Jean smiled at that. "Well, we don't use guns around here."

"Not much of a need for one with your power," Jeff noted, showing his own crooked smile.

"No, I suppose not. So, are you going to answer the question?"

Jeff folded his arms. "I suppose it's a fair enough question, so yeah. The answer is that I'm not going to try to take advantage of anything. I'll give her comfort when she needs it. I won't push her to do anything she doesn't want to do."

"I'm not worried about her being forced into anything," Jean answered. "I'm worried that she'll rush into a relationship too fast. She may find out she made a mistake."

"Aren't you the one rushing things? Rogue and I aren't even dating."

"You might as well be. For Rogue's problems, just hanging out with you practically qualifies as dating. It's about all she could risk. Now she knows she can do more. And besides all that, I've seen the way you look at her. I don't need to be a telepath to know you can see through the makeup and clothes and the way she pushes other people away."

Jeff looked away and didn't say anything.

"Just . . . go slow," Jean continued, searching for words. "I'm sure she's never dated before, and she's a bit mixed up as it is. She hasn't fully realized all the implications. The last boy she had a crush on . . . well, the Professor told you that. You, on the other hand, she can't hurt in that way. On top of that, you treat her like a normal girl. The guys here know not to get close to her, and none of the 'ordinary' boys at school want to. You do."

Jean looked at him for a moment. "So . . . back to my original question. Strictly in confidence, what _are_ your feelings towards her?"

Jeff tapped his fingers on his left arm. "Strictly in confidence?" he repeated. "Well . . . I don't know. She's just . . ." He groped for words. "She's . . . different. She's not like anyone else I've ever met. It's weird, really. I'm normally attracted to girls like Kitty -- energetic, cheerful, and with at least some sort of geek-level hobby. The sanguine-melancholic sort of personality. Rogue, though . . ." Jeff shook his head.

"You know what the first thing I really noticed was?" he asked Jean. He didn't wait for a response. "Her eyes. They were steel-colored. They looked exactly the same shade as a carbon-steel katana my old sensei had, and just as hard. And then the next time I saw her, they were green, like grass after a spring shower."

Jean nodded. "Yes, her eyes change color depending on her mood."

"I'd heard of that sort of thing before, but she's the first person I ever saw with eyes like that. It was really striking. And then there's her smile. She doesn't smile much, but when she does it's like a million-candlepower lightbulb. It's like she warms the whole room. Like sunlight on a cloudless day." Jeff's voice had become softer, and Jean was sure that if she could see his eyes she'd see him staring off into space.

_Wow_, Jean thought to herself._ He's got it bad. And why can't Duncan be all poetic like that? Or Scott?_

Before either of them could continue, however, the kitchen door opened. Logan walked in, sweaty from his morning run. "Jean," he said in greeting. "McGovern. I wondered who was frying onions at this hour."

Jeff paused as he switched mental gears. "I haven't even put mine on yet," he said, confused.

"I smelled Jean's," Logan said, going to the refrigerator and pulling out a beer.

"Logan's got highly acute senses," Jean told Jeff.

"Really?" Jeff asked. He turned around, picked up a knife, and started slicing up some celery. "How acute?"

"I can tell you showered at least an hour ago," Logan told him. With a sudden metallic scrape, one of his claws shot out of his hand to pop off the bottle's cap, and then disappeared back into his arm. "You used Head & Shoulders as well as Irish Spring soap."

"I'd be more impressed if you could tell me something you might not already know from seeing what I left on the counter in the bathroom."

"Oh, okay, smarty pants. You had _March of Cambreadth _on your MP3 player yesterday. It came on while you were packing up your books, and you had it play three times. The next song was something with a chorus of 'no quarter.' I liked that one, by the way. Next up was something that sounded like it was by the same singers as the 'no quarter' thing, this time about the tree being fairer than the blossom. Need any more?"

Both of Jeff's eyebrows were raised. "Yeah, that's good. You weren't even in the room for some of that."

"Yeah. Glad to see you like _March of Cambreadth_. Great jogging song. What's the other marching tune?"

"Oh, _No Quarter_, by Echo's Children." Jeff poured his eggs over the chopped celery, onions, and ham. "It's about some stuff that happens in a book. And you're right, the other one's _Fair Was the Blossom_, by the same people. Refers to the same books, too. Same event, even."

Logan finished his beer, and dropped it into a large garbage can under the counter. Jeff looked at it for a moment, then turned back to his omelet.

Abruptly, Jean remembered what Rogue had told the other X-Men the day before, that Jeff's parents had been killed in an alcohol-related crash. She wouldn't be surprised if Jeff had problems with the idea of alcoholic drinks now.

Logan seemed to notice Jeff's reaction, and crossed his arms. "Got something you want to say, bub?" he asked.

"No, not really." Jeff's voice was a little too neutral.

"Nothin' about alcohol in the morning? Having beer out where kids could have it? That sort of thing?"

Jeff snorted. "Logan, you look like you could tear me in half, and on top of that you've got ten-inch claws that come out of your hands. I'm not about to lecture you on alcohol habits." He flipped his omelet. "And Dr. Xavier would know if any of us kids tried sneaking a beer."

"The Professor doesn't go peeking like that," Jean protested. "Not without a reason."

Jeff shook his head. "Logan, you're the only one who drinks that, right?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Only four adults here, and you're the only one who seems like a beer drinker. It was a guess. So anyway, you'd notice if anything was missing. And then, Jean, there would be probable cause for Dr. Xavier to go on one of those 'surface skims' and find the culprit. Or, even if he didn't go snooping, the student would know he could if he wanted to, and that's a pretty effective way of preventing it in the first place. And I'd consider it more than probable cause, considering that some of the students here seem to have little enough control with their powers without adding alcohol to the mix."

Logan tilted his head. "Not bad. How many effective weapons are in your reach?"

Jeff took a moment to consider his surroundings. "Four. No, five. Why?"

"Make it seven," Logan corrected. "But not bad. And I was curious about what else you've trained yourself to see. I need to know that sort of stuff for my classes."

"I take it you're not the art teacher."

Logan chuckled. "Any chance of an omelet, smarty-pants?"

Jeff transferred the finished product to a plate. "The fixings are out. I'm hungry. I want to eat mine."

"You made one for Jean."

"She's prettier than you. And I was less hungry when the smell wasn't filling the room."

"You think you got it bad, bub? Try it from my end." Logan opened the freezer and began poking around. "There's got to be something nukable in here."

"I'll make you one in five minutes."

"Never mind." Logan pulled out a frozen dinner. "I can make this in three."

"Suit yourself."

"Picked a team name yet, kid?" Logan asked, as he put the box's contents into the microwave. "Or are you gonna be like Red here?"

"I just haven't found a good one yet," Jean protested.

"Yeah, I did," Jeff answered. "Or anyway, Rogue suggested it, and I liked it. It's Maverick."

Logan froze, the microwave still open. Then, a moment later, he carefully shut it. "Maverick, you said?"

"Yeah. Why, something wrong?"

"No . . . no, just a memory. Not important."

Jean frowned. "Something new, Logan?"

"I said it wasn't important," Logan told her, his tone making it clear he didn't want any questions. He hit four buttons on the microwave in rapid succession. "You know, you ought to think of a team name for yourself, Jean."

"Yes, Logan, I know," Jean said, exasperated. _Why does someone always have to bring that up?_

"I'm just saying it's about time you came up with something. It's been, what, a year and a half now? Even Brainiac here got somethin', and he don't even know if he's staying."

"Why didn't you pick one?" Jeff asked her.

Jean shrugged. "I just never found one I liked. They just . . . didn't seem good. Kitty tried to get 'Marvel Girl' to stick, but I flat out refused. It sounds like it came out of a bad 60s comic book."

"Rule Sixteen," Jeff quoted. "'Your name is in the mouths of others; be sure it has teeth.'"

Logan grunted something that might have been a form of approval.

"What's that?" Jean asked Jeff.

"It's from _The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Pirates_," Jeff answered. "Which is in turn a fictional book sometimes quoted in _Schlock Mercenary_, by Howard Tayler. Point is, like Kurt was telling me yesterday, you need good names. If someone picks it for you, like your birth name, that's one thing. But I gather these call signs are intended to say something about the person you really are, and not just be a name to tell people apart."

"Yeah, that's about it," Jean agreed. "I just never found one that seemed to fit."

"My advice? Look at mythological names," Jeff suggested. "I'd stay away from most famous mortal women, since they usually have something 'wrong' with them. Goddesses are good. I'd suggest Athena, goddess of wisdom, or Minerva as the Romans called her. Then there's Dana, an Irish goddess. Hmm. 'Valkyrie' could be a good name. Or Phoenix, the bird of rebirth and renewal. Or Nova, Latin for new star . . ."

"Okay, okay!" Jean said, smiling. "I get your point. I'll look into it again."

Logan chuckled. "So, 'Maverick,' feel up to sparing in an hour or so?"

Jeff quickly swallowed a mouthful of omelet. "I suppose so," he answered. "Why?"

"Stripes told me about what you did in the fight Friday. I want to see how you move for myself. I have to see where you place for the exercises."

"Stripes?"

"Rogue," Jean told him. "Because of her hair."

"Oh."

Logan smirked at Jeff. "Plus, you can go all out on me. It won't hurt me."

Jeff snorted. "Logan, from the look of you, I'd need a sledgehammer to hurt you."

"Flattery gets you nowhere," Logan said. "Anyway, if what Stripes said holds up, you could jump right into the training session today. 'Course, you'll need a uniform, but you look like you're about Summers' size. You can borrow his spare."

Jeff tilted his head, his forehead furrowing. "Uniform?"

* * *

"This is ridiculous," Jeff announced, looking down at himself. 

"What?" Scott asked defensively.

"Your uniform." Jeff picked at the crossed yellow bands on his chest. "I feel like I've got a target painted on me. And what the heck is up with the pads?"

"Just that -- padding," Scott snapped. His sunglasses had been replaced by a visor, and its red lens flashed in the light. "You'll be glad it's there when you need to roll with a hit."

"Does everyone have these?"

"Most. Now stop complaining."

Evan walked in, also dressed in the same sort of black-and-yellow uniform, though without the big yellow X across the chest. He too had thick pads on his upper arm.

"Hey, Jeff!" he said brightly. "Ready for the Danger Room?"

"Absolutely," Jeff said. "What's the Danger Room?"

"Training room," Scott said, walking out of his room and motioning for the two of them to follow. "Come on."

The elevator they entered a few minutes later was hidden behind a secret panel in one of the hallways. Rogue had explained that to him yesterday, that there were several levels below the mansion that outsiders never got to see. Dr. Xavier could make them forget everything, of course, but it was best if things were just well-hidden. Besides, he wasn't around all the time.

"The Danger Room is the most expensive thing the Professor has here," Scott said as they descended. "Mainly because we keep damaging it during training. But it's normally the only way to get in combat training."

Jeff remembered the discussion in Xavier's office the day before, and the mention of a war. He thought of Scott's power: a set of destructive energy beams that would pour out of his eyes, if not for the visor that had earned him the handle Cyclops. Or Evan's power, some sort of rapid bone-growth that could produce both armor and projectile weapons. Either ability could easily be used in a war such as the one Logan had alluded to.

Jeff thought about the punks on Friday as well; he thought about what they could have done with superpowers, and felt vaguely glad that a group like the X-Men was in training to prevent such misuse.

"Do you ever get into actual combat?" Jeff asked after a few moments.

"Sometimes," Evan answered in a cocky tone. "Magneto's people get in our faces every so often, and we have to show them we mean business."

"Fighting's the last resort, of course," Scott said. "Mutant powers can be too destructive, and anyway we can't risk discovery."

"Oh, yeah, Magneto," Jeff said, as if remembering. "He's the one with that other group of mutants." Actually, he'd never heard the name before, but he figured it was a fair bet that this was who Dr. Xavier and Logan had been alluding to yesterday.

"Right." Evan nodded. "He thinks mutants are superior beings and need to rule over normal humans."

"So far things haven't come to war," Scott said. "Magneto doesn't want to risk discovery any more than we do."

"We did have that knock-down drag-out over the summer, though," Evan pointed out.

"Yeah, that." Jeff didn't have a clue what Evan was talking about, of course. This was just a little trick his uncle had taught him once. Act like you know more than you do and you get a lot out of a friendly person.

"It was intense. Hovering asteroid, battle royal, daring rescue, the works. Magneto was pumped up on his power-boosting machine, but he couldn't match all the X-Men working together. Especially when Cyke here got over the brainwashing and all."

"Do you have to bring that up?" Scott muttered, sounding distinctly uncomfortable.

"Hey, man, it's not like you really knew who Magneto was when you met him for the first time. And when it really came down to it, you knew which way to turn. Even that machine of his couldn't keep the Cyclops down for long." Evan slapped Scott on the shoulder. "It's what being an X-Man's about, you know? Family. Sticking with each other, no matter what. I had to learn that the hard way, but now I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"Even an NBA offer?" Scott asked, smirking.

"Aw, man! Quit with the tough choices." Evan shook his head. "Yeah, even that wouldn't be enough. Close second, though."

Jeff chewed over this new information as the elevator came to a halt. Magneto. Some sort of magnetic powers, obviously, though naming oneself after a piece of machinery sounded a bit odd. Name aside, he sounded like a rather bad character. Brainwashing a member of the X-Men to his cause? Who was this guy, a mutant Charles Manson?

They exited into a hallway with concrete walls, a far cry from the ornate levels above. A short walk and two doorways later -- the last a huge set of double doors -- they were standing in a huge room, about the same size as Bayville High's gym. It looked quite different, however, with odd-looking spotlight-like devices everywhere, and what appeared to be an enclosed control room up at the ceiling.

Logan, Kitty and Rogue were waiting inside. With them were five other girls, two of them obviously twins. Logan was in civvies, while the girls were all dressed in more or less similar outfits. The five that Jeff hadn't met yet were in identical uniforms with the gold-on-black colors of Scott's and Evan's. Rogue's uniform had the added color of green across her upper chest, while Kitty's had a grey triangle-shaped area running from her shoulders down to her legs. And no shoulder pads, Jeff noticed.

Logan crossed his arms as the three boys came in. "Alright, people, listen up. As you know, we have a new recruit. This is Jeff McGovern. He's taking the team name Maverick. He's new, but he should be able to keep up, so he's takin' Berzerker's spot today. Ray, of course, is on probation for fighting."

A blond girl Jeff remembered from the high school as well as his research waved. "Hi, Jeff!" she said cheerfully. "Glad you could join us. Here, catch!"

She tossed a small glowing object underhand to Jeff, who automatically reached out to grab it. The rest of the group made alarmed noises, and Scott and Evan both jumped to the side. As Jeff caught it, though, the ball disappeared without a trace.

Jeff looked up, confused, to see that Logan hadn't moved an inch. The Canadian was also the only one who didn't look surprised at what had happened.

"Tabitha, you're on report," Logan announced into the silence.

"But . . . how . . ." the blond girl was stammering.

Jeff grinned as he caught on. "It's my power," he told her. "I block other powers."

Tabitha looked disappointed. "That's not fair," she grumbled, while the other kids chuckled.

"Enough chit-chat," Logan interrupted. "Today's training is simple. You'll be in two teams, headed by Cyclops and Rogue respectively. One team is going to be defending this." He hefted a device with an LED face.

"Looks like an alarm clock," Evan noted. "What are we supposed to do with that?"

Logan shot Evan an irritated glance. "Hit the snooze button in time, that's what." He continued with his briefing. "The other team will be trying to get to it to turn the countdown off. They will have five minutes to do this. After that, the teams switch places. Questions?" One of the twins raised her hand. "Yes, Cindy, you and Sara will be on the same team.

"Rogue, you won the coin toss, so you get first pick."

Rogue pointed her hand at Jeff. "Maverick."

Kitty looked momentarily surprised, but then shot Rogue a knowing glance. Rogue ignored her, instead nodding to Jeff as he walked over. "Morning, Jeff."

"Good morning, Rogue," Jeff responded. "How's your wrist? I see you're out of your cast already."

"Logan let me take a hit of his healing power," Rogue answered, as Scott picked Kitty, or "Shadowcat," for his team. "Spyke," she said louder, pointing at Evan. She added to Jeff, "I guess being a vampire is useful sometimes."

"Alright," Evan said, rubbing his gloved hands together. "Spyke is in the house. Time to rock."

"Can it, porcupine," Rogue snapped.

"Torch and Corona," Scott said. The two twins walked over to him.

Rogue pointed at two of the remaining three girls. "Magma and Wolfsbane."

The last one, the blond who had thrown Jeff the small glowing ball, smiled at Scott. "I guess you got me, then, honey," she said, walking to him with a little sway in her hips.

Scott frowned and didn't answer her.

"Okay, Summers," Logan said to Scott. "You get to pick. Offense or defense?"

"Offense," Scott replied.

"You got it." Logan handed the timer to Rogue, along with a handful of canvas strips with velcro fasteners. He gave another set of strips to Scott. "Remember, no going through the holograms. 'Cept for the half-pint, that is," he added, looking at Kitty. "No phasing through the real walls, though," Logan said directly to her.

"Yeah, I know," Kitty said, rolling her eyes. "I didn't mean to short out everything like that last time, gimme a break."

"Whatever. Otherwise, standard limits on powers," Logan said to everyone as he started to walk to the door. "Take your places, it starts in two minutes."

When the doors shut behind Logan, Jeff turned to Rogue. "Okay, he seems to like dropping things on people. What exactly are we doing, and what's the 'standard limit'?"

"Standard limit means we only use powers to minimal force," Rogue told him. "That means you'll still feel it, but we're not supposed to break any bones. 'Course, it can still happen, but it's no more risk than football."

"Lovely." Jeff looked over Scott's team. "I guess that's why Logan decided to test me with a sparring match."

"I heard you really got to him," said the girl Rogue had called Wolfsbane, wide-eyed. She was a young girl, about fourteen, and spoke with a vaguely Scottish accent. Jeff remembered her from his research: Rahne Sinclair, the exchange student from Scotland.

Jeff raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because it felt more like I sucked."

"Oh, don't worry about that, Maverick," Evan said, slapping him on the shoulder. "The Wolverine's like a seven-knot black belt."

"In what, though?" Jeff asked. "I couldn't figure out his style."

"Anything," Rogue answered, motioning for everyone to move to one side of the Danger Room. Scott's team was moving to the other end. "Logan's got his own stuff. He steals from anything that works."

"Yeah, man," Evan said. "I've only seen one guy go toe to toe with him and give him trouble, and that guy had the same healing ability Logan does. And he was seriously strong, too."

"Okay, enough," Rogue said, waving for Evan to shut up. "The game here is like a one-sided capture the flag," she said to Jeff. "There'll be a holographic landscape around us, and we can't go through the holograms. Logan will probably raise some physical barriers in the holograms just to make certain we don't try. Knowing him, sharp ones. They don't have electronics in them, so Shadowcat can't short them out.

"Cyclops will probably try a frontal assault, so we'll set up for that. The only one he picked who's useful for stealth is Shadowcat. Look out for her trying to go through things, especially people." Rogue looked at the others. "Wolfsbane, hybrid form, smell them out. Magma, I need you to counteract the pyro-twins. The rest of you, improvise."

"Improvise?" Rahne said skeptically, taking one of the strips Logan had given Rogue. She fastened it around her arm.

"Yes, do what you feel is best. Simple is best here." Rogue looked at Jeff. "You'll probably want to get as close to them as possible," she said, handing him a velcro strip.

"Right." Jeff accepted the strip.

"_Thirty seconds, people_," came Logan's voice over a loudspeaker system.

"What powers do we have?" Jeff asked, trying to get as much information as he could before starting.

"Wolfsbane's a limited shapeshifter," Rogue said, pointing at Rahne. "Full wolf shape and a hybrid form. This is Amara, or Magma as we call her; she creates heat and can control fire. Spyke, of course, can grow and shoot bone spikes."

Evan grinned, and a moment later boney spikes were growing out of his back and arms, apparently fitting through discrete holes in his uniform. Jeff had known what his power was before, but he hadn't witnessed it in action. It was a little creepy, he reflected. Jeff could also see why Rogue was calling Evan "Porcupine."

Rogue continued, as the devices Jeff had mistaken for spotlights began glowing. "On the other side is Cyclops' eye-blast. It's not a laser; it feels like a physical force. Kitty's power you know. The twins are similar to Amara here, and can also talk telepathically with each other. And then there's Boomer."

"The girl with the glowing balls," Jeff noted, watching as the room began to disappear.

"Yeah. Just so you know, that ball was supposed to explode."

"I'd wondered why you all looked so concerned."

"_Game start_," came Logan's voice. The device in Rogue's hand beeped, and began displaying a five-minute countdown.

The five of them were standing in a forest, or at least a good fake. It flickered a bit, but it was more than enough to get the feel of where they were supposed to be. The clearing they were in was about fifteen feet wide, and there were three paths coming into it.

"Wolfsbane?" Rogue asked, setting the device down in the middle of the clearing.

The little Scottish girl began to grow fur and stoop over. In the space of a mere two seconds, she sported a full pelt of fur, a muzzle, and clawed hands, looking like nothing so much as a classic werewolf. Oddly, the sleeves and legs of her uniform seemed to have disappeared, leaving her clad in something like a modest one-piece swimsuit. The ribbon was still fastened to her wrist, though.

Wolfsbane sniffed the air. "They're moving," she growled, her words distorted by her now-oversized teeth. "I think."

"You think?"

"Gimme a moment." She began pacing the clearing, and after a few seconds began to point. "Cyclops is over there, an' one or both o' the twins are over there. Can't tell about the others yet. Wait . . . Shadowcat!"

"Right here!" came Kitty's voice as she ran out of a tree. She passed straight through Rahne, who had turned to swipe at her. Rogue tried grabbing for Kitty's ribbon, but it passed through her hand like it was a hologram itself.

"Can't stop me!" Kitty laughed, looking over her shoulder at Rogue. Then she slammed into something hard, knocking her to the floor. She looked up to see Jeff and yelped. She tried rolling to the side, but Jeff grabbed her wrist and pulled off her ribbon.

"Shoot," Kitty said, pouting. "I almost had it."

Rogue smiled at Jeff. "Good work."

"All I did was stand in the way," Jeff answered, shrugging.

Kitty rubbed her nose. "Yeah, I noticed."

"Quiet, Kitty, you're supposed to be dead," Rogue told her.

Kitty stuck her tongue out at her, but whatever she said next was drowned out by the sound of firecrackers going off all around them. Jeff threw up his arm to block the flash of light, strong even though his sunglasses. He felt a tug at his velcro strip. He swung in the direction of the pull so that it wouldn't come off, and his fist impacted with someone's stomach. A girl, from the sound of the grunt.

"Hello Tabitha," Jeff remarked, taking a guess. He quickly grabbed hold of her own arm and soon had her in a hammerlock. Evan was there a moment later to yank off her velcro strip.

"Hey handsome," the blond girl responded, relaxing into his grip. "Couldn't wait to get your hands on me, could you?"

"And now I can't wait to drop you," Jeff told her, letting go.

Tabitha stumbled, almost falling to the ground, as she watched Jeff move forward. "Hmm, playing hard to get?"

"Cyclops!" Rahne roared, pointing in the opposite direction from where Tabitha had come. She bounded forward, only to be knocked back by a red blast.

Scott came into the clearing at a run, headed straight for the timer. Jeff intercepted him, running forward himself to make a flying side kick. Scott avoided it easily; it was a move that looked great, especially on film, but was very slow and hard to adjust in a fast-moving fight. However, Jeff had never intended it to connect; its purpose was to stop Scott's charge, and it worked just fine for that.

Scott retaliated with another blast from his visor, this one aimed at Jeff. Jeff flinched but, unlike Wolfsbane, felt nothing. Both he and Scott stood there for a moment, staring at each other.

"Gotcha!" came a girl's voice -- in stereo. A moment later, flames erupted around them, and waves of heat blasted Jeff. His uniform seemed to shrug off the heat to some degree, but his exposed face was feeling it. Once again, Jeff threw up his arm to protect his eyes.

"Too hot!" Scott yelled. "Too hot, you two!"

"Sorry," came the eerie stereo-voice. The flames decreased.

"Take this!" Evan yelled, swinging a long bone-spike at Scott like it was a quarterstaff. Scott shot the spike out of his hands with an eye-blast. Then, as the spike spun through the air, Scott hit it again.

Jeff had just enough time to realize it was headed towards him before it connected. He fell, stunned. He felt his ribbon being tugged off his wrist.

"You okay, Jeff?" Scott asked, leaning over him. Rogue rushed over, kneeling beside him.

"Just as soon as someone stops ringing that church bell with my skull," Jeff said calmly. Actually, his head was pounding like crazy. He gingerly touched the spot where the spike had hit, but didn't feel any blood. "I take it we lost?" he asked after a moment.

"Yeah," Rogue answered.

"Good game, though," Scott said. "You did pretty well, for the new guy."

"Gee, thanks," Jeff said, sitting up.

"And, um . . . sorry about that," Scott added. "I didn't think it would hit that hard."

"Wait, you planned that?" Jeff asked, surprised. "How did you hit that thing like that?"

Scott shrugged. "I don't really think about it. I just know where everything around me is at all times, at least as long as I can see it. And I can kind of see where things will go if I hit them."

"It makes him unbeatable in pool, too," Evan chimed in. "Wolverine can't stand it. He keeps trying to beat him."

"It's all geometry," Scott said. "I just have a head for angles, that's all."

"More like an angle on my head," Jeff grumbled.

"Oh, that was bad," said one of the twins.

"Yes," agreed the other. "Two-thirds of a pun."

"Two-thirds?" Jeff asked, brow furled.

"P-U," said the twins in unison.

Jeff shook his head. "And you thought I was bad?"

"You going to be alright?" Rogue asked.

"Yeah. No worse than when I was learning how to use nunchucks."

"Really?" Kitty looked at him intently. "I've been wanting to learn to use those for a while. Logan says he's going to teach me. Maybe you can join in!"

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Later, Kitty."

_"Is everyone good to move on?"_ asked Logan over the loudspeakers.

"I think so," Scott called back.

"Maybe we should wait," said Rahne, back in her human form.

"I said I'm okay," Jeff said, getting to his feet. He pushed the pain away. "I'm ready to go."

"We're ready," Scott announced.

_"Back to your original places. Cyclops, take the timer. Game start in two minutes._"

The holograms faded, and the teens split up again into the two teams. Scott took the timer with him.

"Please sir," Jeff piped in a British accent, "may I have some more?"

"You want it, you got it," Rogue responded. "Okay, people, we're on offense now. Any suggestions from the peanut gallery?"

"That's easy," Evan said. "We stick Maverick here at the front. They won't be able to use their powers against him."

"The fire still works," Jeff pointed out. "I bet if I touched the twins, they wouldn't be able to do it. But after they produce it there's nothing I can do about the fire. It'll burn me like it would anyone else."

"Well, I can help with that," Amara said softly. "I can manipulate fire. I'm not as good as the twins, but if I work at it they should have a hard time touching you with it."

"But you can't get too close to me," Jeff pointed out. "I'll start blocking your power automatically."

"Well, have you got any fancy ideas?" Rahne asked.

"Why get fancy?" Evan waved a dismissive hand. "I vote for just rushing them. It worked when they did it."

_"One minute."_

"They'll be expectin' that," Rogue said shortly. "And this ain't a democracy. I'm in charge, and you don't get to vote."

Evan crossed his arms."Well, why'd you ask us, then?"

"Rogue," Jeff spoke up, "if you want advice, I'd say our best chance is misdirection."

"Like what?"

"Well, if they're expecting a frontal assault, then they'll probably expect me to be at the front, right? Just like Evan suggested." He smiled slightly. Around them, the holograms began to re-appear, and the light reflected strangely in his glasses. "So . . . let's oblige them."

* * *

As Wolverine announced the start of the next round, Cyclops took quick assessment of the new surroundings forming in the Danger Room. 

"Okay, people, three openings. Torch, Corona, I want you standing there covering those two. I'll take the third. Boomer, stand by the clock; if anyone comes down a passageway, roll a few bombs at their feet. Light ones!" Cyclops added, giving her as much of a glare as he could with his visor in the way.

"Sure thing, Scott," Boomer said, winking at him.

"Codenames in the field, Boomer," Cyclops reminded her. "Let's keep it professional."

"Oh, lighten up, Scott," Shadowcat said. She held up her hands as he turned to look at her. "Okay, okay. Cyclops. Whatever. I'll just go scout, okay?"

Before Cyclops could respond, she had already faded into the holographic foliage. Cyclops suppressed his irritation; it was what he was going to order her to do in the first place, after all. Still, she should have waited for him to say it.

His head snapped up as Shadowcat's voice cried out in surprise. "Shadowcat! What is it?"

There was no answer.

"Watch out," Cyclops said to the other members of his team. "Maverick is on the other side. They're about to come through!"

Even as they focused their attention on the three openings, however, a figure bounded back out of the trees and bushes where Shadowcat had disappeared. "Sorry t' disappoint, sugar, but you're messin' with the Rogue instead!"

Cyclops whipped around, swearing silently. Rogue must have taken a hit of Shadowcat's power, and now she was trying the same attack plan he had attempted against them.

Boomer was already reacting; whatever her faults, she was at least quick on her feet -- especially if it meant she could blow things up. But the power-bombs she was tossing at Rogue simply went through her body, exploding harmlessly inside the holograms behind her.

"Torch!" Cyclops snapped.

"I'm Corona, Cyclops," the girl said, but raised her hands anyway. She sent her flames towards Rogue, attempting to place a barrier between her and the timer. Rogue backed off; Shadowcat's power did not allow her to phase through heat and flames. But rather than trying to go around, Rogue lifted her own hands as if to push against the wall of fire. The wall began to thin out.

_She's absorbed Magma's power!_ Cyclops thought, stunned. The thought that she might absorb her own team's abilities hadn't occurred to him. But perhaps it was a mistake; Rogue had difficulty controlling two powers at once. He raised his hand to his visor, getting ready to give her a blast.

As he did so, however, Cyclops felt an object slam into his arm. He twisted to see Spyke behind him. He ducked another bone-spike and triggered his visor with his other hand. Spyke tried to avoid it, but it still clipped his shoulder and he fell to the ground.

Meanwhile the other twin, Torch, was reacting automatically to her sister's plight, adding her power to her sister's own. But she quickly cried out as a figure leapt out of the forest path she had been guarding, and her sister echoed her surprise. The flames died out.

"Rogue, go!" cried Maverick, wrestling Torch for her ribbon.

Cyclops gritted his teeth. Rogue was trying a staggered attack plan, like his own. That meant . . . yes, Wolfsbane hadn't showed herself yet. Neither had Magma. They were their reserve, then. But until then, Rogue's team was still outnumbered . . .

"Stop it!" yelled Corona. She had stopped producing flames, and was on the ground holding her head as if in pain. "Let her go!"

_Her telepathic link!_ Cyclops froze as the implications hit him. Maverick's ability to block powers meant that for the first time in their lives, the Fire Twins were utterly alone, cut off from each other. He was subduing two targets at once!

Cyclops snatched one of Spyke's boney missiles off the ground next to him. It was a shorter missile than the other boy normally made, allowing Cyclops to throw it like a knife. It spun through the air at Maverick, slamming into his arm. His grip weakened in surprise, and Torch tore free. Maverick made a last grab, finally tearing her ribbon free, but it barely mattered; the Fire Twins were too relieved to be back in mental contact to participate in the fight regardless.

Cyclops heard a noise behind him, and he instinctively ducked. A large bone-spike swung over his head, barely missing. Cyclops dropped and rolled, firing another blast at Spyke, but missed. Spyke fired his bone-spikes at Cyclops, managing to pin his right hand to the floor, but Cyclops hit him with his next blast. Spyke fell to the ground, stunned.

"Boomer! Grab his ribbon!" Cyclops yelled. As he twisted to see the girl, he caught sight of the timer. _Just a little over forty seconds. We can hold them off._

He caught sight of another shape racing out of the path behind Spyke; he fired another optic blast, but Wolfsbane shifted into her full-wolf form in midair and avoided it. Wolfsbane landed on him, and Cyclops automatically raised his left arm to ward her off. Belatedly, he realized he was presenting his ribbon to her, and she responded by closing her jaws around it and ripping it off. The wolf seemed to grin at him and jumped off.

Cyclops stopped struggling with the bone-spikes pinning his arm to the floor and just watched the rest of the fight. There were only thirty seconds left, and it looked like his team might hold out. Boomer was managing to keep both Rogue and Maverick at bay with a steady stream of power-bombs which exploded far enough away that the shock waves affected them despite their powers. Wolfsbane was free, but in wolf form she couldn't hit the buttons to stop the countdown.

But Wolfsbane didn't try; instead, she slammed into Boomer's back, distracting the other girl. Maverick and Rogue took advantage of this to race for the timer, with Rogue phasing through Boomer and Wolfsbane to reach it.

_Ten seconds,_ Cyclops thought. _They won't make it. We won._

But they didn't try punching the sequence in. Instead, Maverick grabbed the timer and tossed it at Rogue, who simply lifted one hand. The timer passed through her hand, and immediately started sparking and smoking. It fell to the ground, breaking open and exposing the blackened interior.

The buzzer sounded.

Wolfsbane morphed back into human form. "Woo-hoo!" the Scottish girl shouted. "We win!"

"No you don't!" Boomer protested. "You destroyed it, you didn't turn it off!"

"Boomer, they won," Cyclops told her. "The rules are that it has to be deactivated, and they don't say how." He began pulling at the spikes again. One of them finally came loose, and he started on the other one. "You okay, Spyke?"

"Yeah, Cyke," the black teen responded, not getting up yet. "You pack a punch, y'know."

"Sorry," Cyclops said. "You almost had me, though." He finally worked the second spike free and stood up. He fingered the hole in his sleeve with dismay, but it wouldn't be too hard to repair.

"You two okay?" Maverick asked, looking at the Fire Twins. "I didn't realize I'd hurt you like that."

"We're okay," one of them said; Cyclops thought it was Torch, but they'd moved to hold each other while he wasn't looking and he'd lost track of who was who.

"But don't do that again, please," said the other.

"It's not fun," said the first.

"Sorry about that," Maverick told them, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. "I didn't know that would happen to you."

"It's okay," the first twin told him.

"Now we at least know," the other added.

"And it's better you found out . . ."

". . . rather than an enemy."

"I guess so," Maverick said. "But I guess we'll have to be careful around each other."

"You've got that right," they chorused.

"Well, good game, everyone," Cyclops announced. "Nice improvisation at the end, too," he added to Rogue and Maverick.

"Improvisation?" Wolfsbane repeated, frowning. "That was the plan in the first place!"

"It was?" Under his visor, Cyclops blinked in confusion. Mentally, he ran back through the fight. "Wait . . . you mimicked my battle plan as a ruse?"

"Um, yeah." Maverick looked uncomfortable again. "It didn't work the right way, but yeah. We figured you'd send Kitty out scouting, and Wolfsbane found her for us. I stopped her and Rogue took her power."

"Yeah, I hate that part," Shadowcat said, appearing out of one of the now-fading holograms. Magma was following behind her. "At least I got Amara before I went out, though."

"Not that you needed me, anyway," the little girl said quietly.

"Well, if we had you we could have done it sooner," Jeff pointed out. "I had to wait until Corona was distracted first."

"I'm Torch," said one of the twins, her typical smile starting to come back. "_That's_ Corona. Can't you tell?"

"Jeez, you'd think we were identical twins or something," her sister agreed.

"Still, your plan worked," Scott answered, as the big double doors to the Danger Room opened. "You cut it a little close, but you still won."

"No, they didn't," Wolverine said, walking into the arena. "I'm giving the point to Cyclops' team."

"Yes!" Boomer cried, even as Wolfsbane voiced her own outrage.

Wolverine gave them a look that silenced them both. "If that had been a bomb, it would likely have gone off. The sparking would have set off the explosion."

"That depends on the detonator," Maverick protested.

"And you wouldn't know without cracking the casing," Wolverine pointed out. "Even assuming you could recognize it in the first place. So the point goes to Cyclops' team. Good game, though. Now hit the showers or whatever you kids do." He walked back out of the room.

"That isn't fair!" Magma said, crossing her arms.

"Two for two!" Boomer said cheerfully. She winked at Maverick. "But nice try, handsome. Maybe next time you'll catch me." She waved as she walked out, not looking back. Rogue gave her a dark look.

"Rogue," Cyclops said, catching her attention. "I think you guys did just fine. And Maverick's right; it depends on the detonator. Besides, he didn't tell us it was supposed to be a bomb." He looked at Maverick, holding out his hand. "And you did a really good job, too. You'll fit in pretty well, I think."

"Thanks." Maverick took his hand. "That means a lot. But I still hate your uniform." He grinned.

Cyclops started to frown, but then grinned himself. "Well, I guess you're entitled to your opinion. Come on. It's time for lunch, and I saw Beast setting up the barbeque out back. We'd better get up there before Kurt eats all the burgers."

* * *

"Well?" Xavier asked as Logan stepped off the elevator. 

"Don't you have better things to do than hang around waiting for me, Chuck?" Logan asked rhetorically. He began walking, and Xavier followed behind him. "The exercise went fine. A little light, though. Storm's programs aren't very vigorous."

"That wasn't the point of this exercise," Xavier pointed out. "Nor was it the reason I wanted you supervising. How did Jeff do?"

"The kid's good," Logan admitted. "Pulls his punches a bit, even with me. I'll work with him, though. He's the first person here that feels like a challenge, though that's just because his power blocks my healing for a second each time he hits."

Xavier had to smile at that. "What is it you say? Pain is weakness leaving the body?"

"Yeah." Logan frowned. "Bottom line, he'll do. We could really use him."

"That is his choice," Xavier reminded him. "Don't try to pressure him."

"You're the boss. But you'd better tell him more. He's quick and he's fishing for information. You don't want him getting bits and pieces and putting them together wrong because he doesn't have all the facts. Remember what happened last year."

"I know, Logan." Xavier frowned. "But I don't want to frighten him away."

Logan stopped. Xavier followed suit, and Logan looked him in the eye. "That bit you in the ass once already, Chuck. It's only a matter of time before it happens again." Without waiting for a response, he turned and continued walking down the hallway.

This time, Xavier didn't follow. _Perhaps Logan is right,_ he thought to himself. _But still . . . despite their powers, despite what I ask of them, they're all still children._

_To Be Continued . . ._

* * *

**Author's Note**

I hope that was to y'all's liking. Now that you've read it, though, I've got a few notes to pass along.

Rogue's eyes:  
That just happened. Some character profiles listed her eye color as green, some as gray, and some as gray-green. Even stills from the cartoon seemed to switch between the two. The idea of her eyes changing color struck me as very cool. It's rare, but sometimes a person's eyes really will change with their mood; my own brother's do, though not as sharply as Rogue's. So that's it. It's just something that struck my fancy.

Jean's codename:  
Since she's the only one without a name, I want to give her one. There's no reason why she shouldn't adopt Phoenix, but I also like the idea of something new. So I thought I'd toss the question out to the audience. Feel free to give me suggestions. I'm not taking a poll, mind you; I'm just looking for the name that most resonates as "cool" to me.

The Fire Twins:  
Yes, they're original characters. They'll become important later (much later, unfortunately), but for now they're probably going to be ignored. This story focuses on Jeff and Rogue, so there's only so much time I can spend on anyone else.

Tabitha Smith:  
I hated the name Boom-Boom, as it sounded more like an insult than a real name. I switched it to Boomer, a name she used in the comics (along with Time Bomb and Meltdown). Additionally, if you've been keeping track of the timeline, you'll notice that Tabitha should have joined the Brotherhood by now. That's one of my bigger departures. I like the idea of having a bad-girl influence on the X-Men, keeping them all from being too goody-goody.

There's lots of other stuff I want to comment on, but I'd take up far too much room. Besides, I'm supposed to have all this up on the little website I created, and haven't updated since the first issue. I'm going to have to just sit down and do it.

One last thing: some of you have been wondering how far I'm going with this story. I've got enough material for at least fifty chapters/issues, and at least fourteen story-arcs. Whether I'll actually write all that out in the end remains to be seen. I think I've got to get tired of this story sometime. (My friend Lady Hour Glass protests loudly every time I remind her of that.)

Next update will be September 1st, or around that date.


	5. Issue 5: Horizons: Threats

Sorry it's a day late! I had a writers' meeting to go to so I was crunched for time. If I might do a small plug for advertising, I'm a (very junior) team member on the new _John Paul 2 High_ Series, which will be coming out soon. It's good stuff, and I'm not just saying that because I'm involved in it. (Actually, I didn't even get involved until recently, and I haven't touched books 1-3 except to read.) Look it up if you're interested, and I'll give more information when I can if anyone's wants it.

A few public replies:

Thank you to Mourning Star for pointing out the formatting mistake I made.

The two songs mentioned in Issue #4 deal with the Honor Harrington series by David Weber, and specifically refer to the events of books 7 and 8. They can be found on the website for Echo's Children. _March of Cambreadth_, the other song mentioned, can be found on Heather Alexander's website.

No, I am not Canadian, but my sister is (long story). She introduced me to Tim Horton's, thus the referrence in Issue #2.

More notes at the end, as well as an important announcement.

* * *

X-Men: Evolution

_  
Maverick_ #5:  
Horizons, Part 2

_Threats_

by  
Bookwyrm

And Now a Word from the Competition.

* * *

"_You say you want a revolution . . . well you know . . ._" 

Jeff took a bite of his sandwich as the familiar sounds of the Beatles came over his headphones. That was one of the things he'd miss when the weather got too cold to sit outside. Students weren't allowed to listen to anything on headphones in the school building, except in the media lab. Jeff had been eating lunch outside for the last week, and he'd gotten used to the secluded spot he'd found on the far edge of the school property. The grounds backed up against a small wooded area, and there were several good-sized boulders to use as seats. From the butts on the ground, it was used for smoking -- and not only tobacco, either. But during his free period, it was unoccupied except for one student eating his lunch, reading a book, and listening to his MP3 player.

"_You tell me that it's evolution . . . well you know . . ._"

_Okay, that's ironic_, Jeff reflected.

After the weekend, school seemed surreal. His worldview had been expanded. Paranormal activity was real. There was such a thing as mutants. There was a secret cold war going on, completely unsuspected by most of humanity. Compared to all of that, going back to the normal world of classes and tests was . . .

Well, anticlimatic.

Jeff gave his head a shake, trying not to dwell on it. He had a good sci-fi book --he'd been trying to read one of Dr. Xavier's articles, but it was way over his head, so he'd switched to a good old alien invasion story -- and plenty of warm sunshine to enjoy for the next half hour. Right now he just wanted to relax and not think about mutants.

So when he noticed someone walking towards him, Jeff was not exactly thrilled.

Jeff looked up to see a scruffy-looking boy the vaguely recognized. He'd seen Kitty talking to this guy a few times, but he didn't know who he was. The boy was tall, with long brown hair that fell into his eyes. He wore a brown vest over a black t-shirt, jeans, and black fingerless gloves. Jeff automatically stuck him in the category of people who want others to think of them as tough. Yet he wasn't moving like it. He seemed confident without caring who thought he was.

Jeff slipped his headphones off. "Hi," he said.

"Hey," Lance responded. "I'm Lance Alvers."

"Jeff McGovern," Jeff replied. "I'm new here, but I guess you know that."

"Yeah," Lance answered. "New at the Institute, too. Kitty told me."

"Oh?" Jeff said.

"Yeah. You're the new mutant."

Jeff just looked at him for a moment. Then he closed his book and put it aside.. "Oh, so you know," he said finally.

"Yeah. Don't worry, I'm a mutant too. Watch." Lance screwed his eyes shut and clenched his fists. The ground trembled around them. Jeff's book fell off the boulder, though fortunately his sandwich remained resting on its bag.

Lance opened his eyes. "See?" he asked. "That was just a little one. Don't want to attract attention, after all."

Jeff suppressed a sigh as he picked his book up. "Your power is causing earthquakes?" he asked. He did not sit back down.

"Yeah. My mutant name's Avalanche."

Jeff frowned. "Avalanche? That's an odd choice. Avalanches have nothing to do with earthquakes. Well, except when an earthquake causes an avalanche."

Lance scowled. "It's my name."

"Your name?" Jeff asked, confused. Then he noded. "Ah. Lance Alvers. Alvers-comma-Lance. Avalanche. Clever. I like it."

"Yeah? Well, it's not supposed to be liked," Lance said, obviously irritated.

"Sorry," Jeff said. "It just seemed curious to me."

"Well, what's your mutant name?"

"Maverick."

Lance smirked. "Maverick, huh? Fits with Rogue, I guess. But I suppose now you know she's not the type you want to date."

Now Jeff was the one getting irritated. "That depends. Not everything is about getting physical, you know."

"Still, one touch, she lays you out. Not something you want to risk."

"I'll take my chances," Jeff said, opening his book again.

"So what's your power, Maverick? Something to do with those glasses? You another Cyclops?"

"No. I've got sensitive eyes."

Lance scowled again. "Look, I'm trying to be civil here. It's a simple question."

"Well, it's the truth. My eyes are very sensitive to light."

"No, about your power," Lance snapped.

Jeff looked back up at him, frowning. He was about to say something when he caught sight of a . . . _blur_ coming towards them. The next moment, a white-haired boy was standing next to Lance, his arrival accompanied by a strong breeze of displaced air. Lance seemed only mildly surprised at his sudden appearance.

"Oh, it's the new guy!" the boy said. "Hi. I'm Pietro Maximoff. Why don't you join our club instead of the Institute?"

Jeff had to pause for a moment to understand him, as Pietro's words all ran together. "Hi," he said finally, introducing himself again. "Jeff McGovern. And I like the Institute."

"Bah," Pietro scoffed, waving a hand airily. "Stuck-up snobs, all of them. You can't have any fun there."

"So, what do they call you?" Jeff asked, feeling somewhat insulted. "Peroxide Boy?"

"Please! I'll have you know this is my real hair. And to answer your question, I'm Quicksilver." Pietro suddenly blurred again, running at an impossible speed around both Lance and Jeff. He did this for about five seconds, then returned to his original spot, not even out of breath. "See?"

"Very impressive. They ought to call you Blur. Or Greased Lightning."

"Nah, too messy. But thanks for the compliment! I don't get 'em often from the X-Geeks."

"I wonder why."

"So what's your power?" Pietro asked. He blurred again, and was suddenly standing right next to Jeff. "Super-strength?" He blurred to Jeff's other shoulder. "You psychic?" And again, right in Jeff's face. "I know. X-ray vision!"

"Pietro!" Lance snapped. "Stop that."

"And why should I, tremor-boy? Because he's one of the high and mighty X-Men? Don't want to mess with someone who's got a Kitty for a friend?"

"No, you idiot. Someone'll see."

"Hey, no one can see us here," Pietro said cheerfully, zipping around the clearing. "Besides, you didn't seem to mind it last month at Homecoming!"

"Homecoming?" Jeff repeated. He remembered something from his research. "There was a natural gas explosion that night, wasn't there? That was you guys?"

"Yeah," Lance said, his expression sour. "Xavier wiped peoples' memories to cover it up."

"See, we got sick of not gettin' recognized for our talents," Pietro said, still zipping around the other two boys. "It's a real drag being around the _homo inferiors_, you know?"

"Is that so." Jeff's mouth tightened. _Homo inferior_. So Pietro apparently agreed with that Magneto character: mutants were a master race.

Jeff had always been gifted with a heightened knowledge of spatial relations; the technical term was kinesthetic awareness. He supposed that might be some kind of mutant gift, a lesser version of what Scott had, but if so it was one of those minor ones that popped up more often. But the important thing was that it let Jeff keep track of everything going on around him -- even, it seemed, someone going a hundred miles an hour.

Pietro didn't know what hit him. One moment he just letting loose and moving at the speed nature intended him to go; in the next, he was on the ground next to Jeff, stunned and bleeding from several scrapes.

Jeff felt a moment of vertigo, like someone had played twelve notes at the same time on a loudspeaker right next to his eardrum. It seemed familiar somehow, though he did not have time to place it. He shoved the feeling aside for later consideration.

Pietro rolled over, looking up at Jeff in shock, then with another blur was back next to Lance. "Howdidyoudothat!?" he demanded, his words almost unintelligible.

"I guess I have another reason I don't want to join your 'club,'" Jeff said calmly. "I don't like racists."

"Ain't racism, it's true!" Pietro retorted, managing to get his voice back to normal. "Besides, there are more of them, so we have to band together!"

Jeff folded his arms. "Look, Speedy Gonzales, I'm from the DC metropolitan area, so don't give me any frak about being a minority. I heard enough of it back home, and from smarter people than you, and you know what? It's still a stupid argument. Now I might have only known about mutants for about forty-eight hours, but so far I haven't seen any evidence of _'homo superior_.' Just some _homo sapiens_ with a few extra tricks."

"Hey, humans hate us too," Lance said, his fist clenching again. "We've seen it."

"You mean like at Homecoming?" Jeff asked, one eyebrow raised. "The reports of that 'explosion' said there were a lot of injuries. Doesn't sound like you were too peaceful that night. What did you do, decide to announce yourselves with a full earthquake?" Lance's gaze flickered, and Jeff smirked. "I'm right, aren't I? How do you expect people to respect you if your way of breaking the news is to attack them with a destructive power?"

Lance grimaced in anger, and Jeff felt the ground start to tremble.

"Hey, you want to fight, sure, I'll oblige you," Jeff said, shrugging. "But I have to tell you it'll end in one of two ways. The most likely one is I put you in the hospital. I already did that to one of the linebackers, as you probably know. The other way is if you manage to knock me out or kill me -- and it would have to be one or the other. I'm not that easy to take down. Either way, we'll attract attention. If you want that, fine. Otherwise, stop your quaking."

"Hey, we can take you!" Pietro smirked. "I wouldn't even work up a sweat. Nobody can touch Quicksilver!"

"Except I did, remember?"

"Whatever. You got lucky."

"We can try again, if you really want."

"Stop it," Lance growled, turning away. The tremors stopped. "Let's go, Pietro."

"What?" Pietro looked honestly surprised. "Hey, it's two against one!"

"Just shut up," Lance shot back over his shoulder.

Pietro looked back at Jeff. Jeff just raised his eyebrow again. Pietro forced another smirk, flipped Jeff off, and blurred away.

When he was sure they were gone, Jeff sighed in relief. He really hadn't been looking forward to another fight . . . this time with powers.

* * *

"Hi, Jeff," Rogue said cheerfully, sitting down next to him at the lunch table. 

"Hi," Jeff responded, sounding a little preoccupied.

Rogue paused. He had a book out, like always, but he wasn't reading it. "Something wrong?"

"Kinda. It involves the other stuff."

Rogue started to frown, but then caught on. She looked around carefully to make certain no one could overhear them. "Yeah?"

"I met Lance Alvers and Pietro Maximoff."

"Oh." Rogue looked him over, not seeing any bruises or cuts. She didn't remember even the hint of an earthquake, either. "You just talked?

"Pretty much. Things got a little testy, but they backed down eventually."

"Good. We've had enough problems with the Brotherhood."

"Mutant gang, huh? Just what every high school needs."

"Sort of. They call themselves the Brotherhood of Mutants, though on the sign outside their boarding house it actually says Brotherhood of Bayville. They used to get their orders from Magneto, but Mystique's the one who started it."

"Who's Mystique?"

"Professor X didn't tell you?" Rogue rolled her eyes. "Yeah, he still treats us like kids. He didn't even talk about Mystique until I told them who she really was."

"You found out first?"

"Um." _Great. How do I tell him that story?_ "Sort of. She's a shapeshifer. Impossible to tell who she is when she's using her power. Or what she is, for that matter; she can change into animals, too. But I touched her one time, right before I joined the X-Men. She used to be the principal here. Called herself Raven Darkholme. No idea what her real name was." _Just the name she used back in Mississippi, that's all . . ._

"Was?"

"She disappeared after our fight with Magneto a few months ago. I hope she's dead." Rogue poked at her food.

Jeff frowned. "That's harsh."

Rogue sighed. "Jeff? Please don't take this the wrong way, but I really don't want to talk about Mystique. There's pretty much no one I hate more in the world."

"Oh. Okay." Jeff fiddled with his book.

"Anyway. They tried to recruit you, huh?"

"If you can call it that. They were pretty stupid about it. I felt more like punching them than joining up."

"I'm glad you didn't. That would be hard to cover up."

"Look who's suddenly the voice of reason." Jeff smiled at her, and Rogue gave him a dark look. "Anyway, I did hit Pietro."

"You did what?" Rogue's forkfull of food hung in midair, forgotten.

"Well, it wasn't a real hit. I touched him, just long enough to affect him with my power. I know, it was a stupid thing to do. The little prick just annoyed me."

"No, no, I don't care about the hitting part." Rogue shook her head. "He deserves it. What I don't understand is how you were able to touch him in the first place. He's _fast_."

Jeff shrugged. "He wasn't expecting it. He was just showing off, being annoying. I just gave him a taste of what I can do. I don't know if he figured it out, but it stopped him so hard that he fell down."

"Wow." Rogue finally put the fork in her mouth and started chewing. "How come he didn't keep going, though?"

"No idea, really. Apparently his power doesn't quite obey the first law of motion. I can't figure out where all the kinetic energy went. My power can't be blocking that."

Rogue smirked. "I bet you find that more annoying than Quicksilver himself."

Jeff stuck his tongue out at her. Rogue giggled, then covered her mouth as she heard herself, embarrassed that she would make such a sound in the cafeteria of all places.

"Well, now that's interesting," came a voice with a strong British accent. Jeff and Rogue looked up to see a short girl with purple-dyed hair standing over them, a tray of food in her hands.

"Risty, hi," Rogue said, waving to her friend. "How was your trip?"

"Oh, dull," Risty said, sitting down across from them. "Another trip into New York to look at museums. It's amazing what people think are valuable. Some of that stuff's complete rubbish."

"Didn't you do other stuff?" Rogue asked. "I mean, you've been gone a whole week."

"Yes, but nothing fun," Risty answered. "Blasted chaperones wouldn't let us hit any nightclubs. Even the ones teens are allowed in! Bloody Nazis. Anyway, who's the friend?"

"Oh, right." Rogue felt embarrassed again. "This is Jeff McGovern. He just moved here to Bayville, and he's just been accepted to the Institute. Jeff, Risty Wilde. She's an exchange student from England."

Risty waved as she picked up her milk carton. "Pleased to meet you, Jeff," she said, looking at him with a pair of very striking pale-brown eyes. "Anyone who can make Rogue laugh while she's eating this bloody food is worth meeting. I see you're smart and skipping it completely."

"Oh, I already ate," Jeff told her. "Though yeah, I did bring my own stuff. So how do you like the States?"

"Well, it would rock if I didn't have to stick to the exchange program schedule," Risty answered. "I like America, just not school, you know?"

"Right." Jeff nodded. "Why are you in Bayville, though, if you don't mind my asking? It seems a little small to attract an exchange student, unless you were in the Institute."

Risty shook her head. "Oh, no. Actually, exchange programs like doing this sort of thing. It's so we foreigners don't all end up in the same areas. They don't want us banding together and staging an uprising or anything." She grinned. "1812 all over again, you know."

Jeff smiled back. "Four words: Battle of New Orleans."

"Oh, you Yanks always bring that up. Doesn't matter, we would have won anyway. Besides, we got Washington." She grimaced, running a hand through her purple hair. "Bloody place that is. I was there last summer. Hotter than Hell, and humid enough to drink the air. And the people are all bloody nasty."

Rogue covered her mouth to hide her smirk. "Risty, Jeff's from Washington."

Risty blanched. "Oh! I'm so sorry. I'm such an idiot."

"It's okay," Jeff said, shaking his head. "I don't technically count. I'm not actually from DC. I was just outside it, in northern Virginia. And yes, it's not the top vacation spot in the world. Your Foreign Office used to list it as a hazard post because of those summers."

Risty looked grateful, and nodded. "Someone said it was originally a swamp, and Mother Nature tries taking it back every August."

"Yeah, that's home."

"Sounds about right for my old back yard," Rogue said. "Except most of it was land Mother Nature hasn't let go of yet."

"Yeah, they probably only put the nation's capitol on the Potomac because they hadn't found the Mississippi yet." Jeff smirked. "I'm not looking forward to winter here, but at least summer ought to be a little more tolerable. Back home it was pretty much only late spring and early fall that was really comfortable."

"Well, take it from me, winter here is a real pain," Rogue said. "I didn't realize I could get that cold and still be able to move. Barely, anyway."

Risty shrugged. "It's all different from England, that's certain. But enough about the climate. What amazing conversation did I interrupt?"

Beneath his glasses, Jeff's eyes flickered to Rogue, who was hesitating. "Oh, I just ran into some punks here," Jeff told Risty. "Rogue was telling me who I was dealing with."

"Oh, really? Which punks were these?"

"The Brotherhood boys," Rogue informed her. "They'd decided a chat was in order to welcome the new student."

"Dear me. You make it sound almost sinister."

"Well, it almost went into a fight, as Jeff was telling me," Rogue answered. "You know, typical male posturing."

Jeff made a show of being affronted. "Hey!"

"Oh, I'm sure she doesn't mean anything by it," Risty told him, her eyes wide and innocent. "After all, you can't help it, can you?"

"Yeah, that's me," Jeff said dryly. "I do love a good scrape before lunch. Helps digestion."

"I'll say," Rogue told Risty. "He's gotten himself involved in three fights since his first day here."

"Oh, so you're counting the two you started, is that it?"

"Details, details," Rogue said, waving a hand. "Technically I didn't start that first one. And the other one was going to happen anyway, after all. Why not get it going on my own terms?"

"She's supposed to be wearing a wrap around her wrist," Jeff told Risty. "She sprained it in the last one." They'd decided it was better to admit to an injury, and then play it down, rather than risk any of the boys who'd attacked them wonder why she didn't seem to be favoring her wrist.

"Oh, it's nothing. Doesn't even hurt. The doctor just didn't want to take a chance."

"What does a quack know, anyway?" Risty added airily. "They just try to fix everything with a few pills. Anyway, Jeff, what classes are you in?"

"Um." Jeff thought for a moment. "English Novel, American History, American Government, Astronomy, Physics, and Spanish."

"That's quite a load," Risty said, raising her eyebrows. "And the Astronomy . . . you're in the honors program?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"It's a senior-level course. They only let juniors in if they're honors."

"Oh, no, I'm a senior."

"You are?" Rogue blurted, taken aback. "But we're in two classes together."

"Well, I have a lot of extra credit hours. Actually, I could graduate this December with all the credits I'll have, but they won't let me."

"Why not?" Risty asked.

"The county BOE says that no student can graduate without a full education, and they seem to think that the only measure of a full education is time spent. There was a lot of fluff about 'leveling the playing field' and 'not exceeding the majority of students.' I don't know why they have an honors program in that case anyway. Still, it means I can take what I'm actually interested in."

"But how did you get all those extra credits, then?" Rogue asked.

"Homeschool. When my mother figured out how little sleep I needed, she assigned me an extra hour's worth of work each day. Plus I had school during the summer in exchange for certain privileges. She kept great records, so when I had to transfer into a normal high school most of the credits came with me."

"How little sleep you need?" Risty repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Yeah, I get by on less sleep than most people."

Rogue tapped her foot against Jeff's under the table.

"Really?" Risty asked. "How much?"

Once again, under the ever-present cover of his glasses, Jeff glanced at Rogue. He wasn't used to having to hide what had been a normal thing for him for years. "Just a couple hours a night," he told the British girl. "Or during the day. I'm not picky. I like being nocturnal."

"Ah, that explains the sunglasses then."

Both Rogue and Jeff frowned and glanced at each other. "How so?" Jeff asked.

"Easy." Risty grinned. "You're a vampire."

Rogue suddenly had an exaggerated coughing fit. Jeff just shrugged helplessly. "Okay, you got me," he said, not missing a beat. "You must have seen the SPF-six thousand sunblock in my bag."

"Hah! I knew it." Risty leaned over the table. "So, do you drink blood?"

"What kind of vampire would I be if I didn't? I have a deal with a local butcher. Every so often I get some human, though. What's your blood type?"

"B-positive."

"Hmm. I prefer A-positive. It has a bit of a bite to it."

"Do you really sleep in a coffin?"

"Please. Four-poster Victorian bed. Silk sheets. Nothing less will do."

"Can you turn into a bat?"

"Oh, no, of course not. What ever gave you that idea?"

"Hypnotic stare?"

"Oh, yes. I'm slowly building an army of mind-controlled high school students. That's the real reason for the glasses, of course. I just want to take control one person at a time, and not have whole crowds looking blank whenever they see me. I like the personal touch. I've finished up with Rogue, and I'm looking for someone to join up next. Care to volunteer?"

"I don't know." Risty made a show of considering. "Do I get to wear a leather bodice?"

"I prefer a more relaxed dress code, but whatever you feel like. I will insist on those sinister flowing black capes, though. I want those to come back into style. Now, do you prefer to be bitten on the right or the left side of the neck?"

Rogue tried to stifle another giggle. Risty and Jeff couldn't hold it any longer either, and broke out laughing.

"Oh, you're good, mate," Risty said, toasting Jeff with her milk carton. She glanced at Rogue. "Much better sense of humor than that Summers chap," she said with a meaningful arch of an eyebrow.

Before Rogue could respond, however, the clear tone of the PA alert sounded in the cafeteria. "_Jeff McGovern, report to Principal Kelly's office. Jeff McGovern, report to the principal's office._"

"What's that about?" Rogue asked.

"No idea," Jeff answered, gathering his things onto his tray. "But I doubt I'm in trouble for anything."

* * *

"I have to say, Mr. McGovern, I'm very disappointed," Principal Kelly said, tapping his fingers on his desk. 

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir," Jeff answered. "May I ask why?"

Principal Kelly flipped open a folder with Jeff's name on it. "Nearly straight As at your last school. Honors roll. Won the regional chess tournament twice. Won the regional science fair once. And on top of all of that, you've already fulfilled the core requirements for the state Board of Education."

"Thank you, sir."

"I wasn't complimenting you, Mr. McGovern, simply stating fact. Don't be insolent."

"Yes, sir."

Kelly looked up at Jeff suspiciously. Belatedly, Jeff thought that the politeness his mother drilled into him might be perceived to be sarcasm to this man.

"You also seem to have amassed a great number of credits from a school prior to your last one. I don't see a name on that school, though. Tell me, what high school was that?"

Jeff kept his face still. Kelly obviously knew exactly where Jeff had gone to school. "I was homeschooled," he said out loud.

"Homeschooled?" Kelly leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes as if this was news to him. Jeff knew full well that his transcript said where he had gone to school. "Mr. McGovern, I have found it to be my experience that homeschoolers are notoriously arrogant and self-righteous. Can I expect you to be any different?"

"Sir, I don't know who you've met before me, so I can't be certain. Please feel free to let me know if I do something wrong, though."

"Oh, be certain of that, Mr. McGovern," Kelly said, with an edge in his voice. "Unlike some principals, I believe in a hands-on approach and keeping problems from forming in the first place. Like, for instance, your choice of friends."

"What about my friends?" Jeff said, fighting to keep a scowl off of his face.

"Don't be coy. Your new paperwork just came across my desk this morning. You've joined the Institute. Every last student at the Xavier Institute has been a marked troublemaker. The last principal, Dr. Darkholme, made extensive mention of the problems with your new friends. Considering her lax attention to her other duties, I felt that the records showed a serious problem. I've only been here a short time, but I'm convinced that this 'X-Men' gang requires a careful eye."

_Someone's been blabbing,_ Jeff thought. But at least it didn't seem as though Kelly had all the facts.

"And now it appears you've joined the 'X-Men,'" Kelly was saying. "A pity. I suppose, being a homeschooler, you aren't to be held to blame for wanting greater social contact, but don't let that blind you."

_Wow. That's laying it on thick. I didn't know anyone hated homeschooling this much. Or maybe he just likes being superior? _"The Institute has a lot to offer me, sir."

"Be that as it may, you should have greater caution when it comes to your fellow students. Especially Miss D'Ancanto -- I believe 'Rogue' is her gang name, yes? She has quite the tendency to cause disturbances. I've noticed you've been spending quite a lot of time with her."

Jeff managed not to glare at him. It was hard, though. _What's this guy's problem? _"I believe that would be my business, sir."

"Everything that goes on in this school is my business, Mr. McGovern. Unfortunately, I can't do anything about what you do off school property, or else I would have already have suspended you for placing Larry Henson on the bench for the season."

"What?" Jeff blurted. "You're upset because he's unable to play?"

"He _is_ the star linebacker. Bayville is much more likely to loose games now. It would be good if you apologized to him and the team."

"Sir, I will do no such thing," Jeff said. He knew his anger was showing, but he didn't care. "He attacked me, not the other way around. Legally, I can charge him with assault. Similarly, I could do the same with his five friends who attempted to ambush me and my friend in the exact same way. I in no reasonable sense provoked any violent response, and if I am required to _apologize_ for defending myself and my friend in a reasonable fashion, then I_ will_ file such a suit."

Dr. Kelly fixed him with what he obviously intended to be a withering glare, but Jeff just let it wash over him. Kelly probably figured he was bluffing, but at the same time had to consider the possibility. Jeff was counting on that. Anyone so concerned with the football team -- or perhaps more particularly, the revenue and prestige it brought the school -- would also want to keep any semblance of scandal far away from the precious sports program. It was getting to be too popular a subject in the media these days.

After a minute or so of silence, Kelly flipped Jeff's folder closed. "You may go, Mr. McGovern, but don't think for a moment that I will forget your attitude problem. I'll be watching you."

_I would be expecting no less_, Jeff thought. He almost said it out loud, just like he almost gave the principle a mock salute. Both were vetoed just in time, however, and Jeff made his exit.

His residual anger started to evaporate the moment he saw Rogue waiting for him. "What happened?" she asked him.

"Nothing much," Jeff told her. They started walking to their next class, American Government. "He tried putting the fear of God into me, or at least the fear of Kelly. He also wants me to apologize to that football player in the hospital."

"What!?" Rogue stopped in her tracks. "That's ridiculous! For what? He attacked you!"

"Yeah, I pointed that out to him. He also wants me to stay away from you and the rest of the Institute."

Rogue looked like she needed someone to punch. "Well . . . bugger Kelly, _and_ his fancy doctorate, too."

"That's the spirit," Jeff said, forcing a laugh. He didn't want Rogue to be fuming about this for the rest of the day. "So, anything you feel like doing after school?"

"Like what?"

"Oh, you know. Hang out. That sort of thing. See a movie or something."

The change of subject made Rogue pause. "Are you asking me out?" she asked after a moment. There was a strange tone in her voice.

Jeff looked at her. "No. Not yet, anyway."

"Not yet?"

"If I ask you out, you won't have to ask if that's what I'm doing."

"But you want to?" Rogue asked, looking towards one of the high windows in the hallway.

Jeff suddenly reflected that this was hardly the best place to be discussing this subject. Students were trickling through from lunch to get ready for class, and the bell was going to ring soon to let out the rest who had different lunch periods.

"Yes," Jeff said after a moment's hesitation. He left it at that, though.

"Okay." Rogue smiled, ever so slightly. "Well, if it's not a date, then I'd like to learn some of those pressure point moves you've got. Especially since I don't have to worry about skin contact with you."

"You're on," Jeff said, grinning at her. "But I warn you, I don't have many qualms about hitting girls, at least when they've asked for it."

"Fine by me." Rogue grinned back, and her smile had a mischievous bite to it. "I have absolutely no qualms about hitting boys, since they're _always _asking for it."

* * *

Pietro Maximoff raced for a secluded patch of woods outside Bayville. Avoiding the _homo inferiors_ had been a bit troublesome, but now no one was around to see him. Not that they could by now. He'd worked up a good comfortable speed, making him practically invisible to anyone not prepared for someone to travel at just under the speed of sound. Pietro could actually go faster than Mach One, but the sonic boom kind of gave him away. 

Entering the woods, though, Pietro slowed to barely a hundred miles an hour, searching for the one he came to meet. A few seconds later, he came to a halt in a whirlwind of fallen leaves.

"A whole five minutes late, Pietro?" said the figure standing before him. His deep voice was quite amused. "I'm surprised. You aren't slowing down, are you?"

"It took longer to get away from the school, Father," Pietro said sullenly. "My class went a little late. I don't know why you insist for us to go to school with mere humans."

"It is necessary for now, Pietro," said Magneto. "The day will be coming when you may stand forth as what you are. But until then, do as I say and do not question me." His voice had lost its mild teasing tone for a much harder edge.

"Yes, Father," Pietro replied, looking down.

"Now, what did you call me here for? You are fortunate that I was not far to begin with."

"There's a new X-Men member," Pietro began.

"His name?"

"Maverick. Human name's Jeff McGovern."

"Maverick? A good name for a mutant. Quite strong and bold. What is the difficulty with him?"

"His power. Somehow he cancelled out mine."

"Indeed?" Magneto's voice was still smooth and measured, but Pietro could hear the sudden note of interest.

"One moment I was running circles around the punk, and the next it was like someone put the world on fast-forward, you know? It's like all my energy left me all at once, and I was as slow and weak as . . . as a human." Pietro almost said _everyone else_, but his father would sometimes lecture him on misplaced arrogance.

If Magneto noticed the slip, he refrained from saying anything. "What else do you know about this Maverick?"

"Well, he's new. He was only here for a few days before he joined the Institute."

"He was not one of Charles' discoveries? Interesting."

"McGovern's able to fight, too. He won against some of the football players. And he was pretty confident when he faced up against me and Avalanche."

"Your opinion of him, young Quicksilver? Your honest opinion, I stress. No bravado."

Pietro gritted his teeth. "Capable," he said, with great reluctance. "Of course, if he didn't have that power . . ."

"If he did not have that power, he would be of little use, either to me or Charles Xavier. How sympathetic is he?"

"Pssh. Not at all. Called us racists."

"Pity. Still, he might be open to persuasion. It is simply a matter of finding the right way to appeal to him. But first . . . yes, first I would like him tested."

"How?"

"How else? In battle. Struggle is the only way that the best become better. It is the way of evolution."

"But the X-Men will --"

"Pietro. I'm disappointed. Obviously you need to get him alone. Use your ingenuity."

"Avalanche won't go for it," Pietro protested. "He's too sweet on one of the X-Men girls, a little ditz named Shadowcat. He doesn't want to move against them after what happened at Homecoming."

"If you cannot take control of this little 'brotherhood' of Mystique's, then perhaps you are not the young mutant I thought you were. Perhaps I should send another to take command? Colossus, perhaps? Or Gambit?"

"No!" Pietro swallowed. "No. I can do it. Just . . . give me a little time."

"Of course, Pietro. Take your time." Magneto turned and began walking into the deepening shadows, his cloak swirling about him in the slight breeze. "Just do not take too long. Even my own flesh and blood can only be granted so much."

_To Be Continued . . ._

* * *

Risty 

I'm going to assume most of you know Risty's secret. If you do not, don't read this section. One of the reasons I write things out in such a detailed fashion is for the few readers who might not know everything about the series. The secret is revealed early on in the cartoon, but in a way that makes me cringe; it could, and should, have been a bigger shock. Hopefully you'll all agree that my way of revealing it later on (not until Issue #12, I'm afraid -- Shadow Dance, Part 6) is closer to doing the secret justice.

Those of you who think that Risty is acting somewhat out of character (due to the meta-character understanding that the audience has) can feel free to discuss it with me privately; please don't put it in a review until #12 comes out. I don't know exactly when that will be, however. Just bear with me.

Kelly

In the show, there's a suggestion that he remembers something about the Homecoming fiasco, and this is his reason for hating mutants. I don't like this explanation, because if Xavier wonders whether he did it right, he could always go back later and check to make certain he finished the job.

So instead I've interpreted him to be a guy who Knows What He Knows (and don't anybody tell him different). He's got a brand-spanking new doctorate in education and a head full of mush about the right way to do things. While this includes the idea that homeschooling is bad, it stems from the idea that education must be done in a controlled environment where students are prepared for the real world. Of course, the real world _isn't_ a controlled environment . . . but that's not what many education specialists seem to believe. And, since the Institute offers some sort of "special education," Kelly automatically distrusts it. Couple that with the stuff Mystique put in the files while she was the principal and he feels entirely justified to keep an eye on the Institute kids.

I don't know how much I'll be able to use this later on, which is why I'm detailing it right here. I have this need to give a better explanation for his behavior, so this was what I came up with.

* * *

Finally . . . I know some people are not going to like this. I will be taking a hiatus in the month of October. After the next update, it will be a full month and a half before I put anything up again. The reason for this is my buffer isn't as large as I wanted it to be. My six-part treatment of _Shadow Dance_ (hopefully redeeming the episode!) is still only half done, and I want some time to see if I can fix that. I don't want to make you all wait in the middle of a story-arc, so I want to delay that as long as I can. 

I knew a pause in updates was coming, but I was hoping not to have it this soon. Still, if you saw my college workload, you'd understand. When you add up all the classes, I'm putting in about 60-70 hours a week just for school work, and that doesn't count the extracurricular stuff. My workaholic father has more free time than I do . . . sad.


	6. Issue 6: Horizons: Revelation

X-Men: Evolution

_  
Maverick_ #6:  
Horizons, Part 3

_Revelation_

by  
Bookwyrm

Time to Accessorize. Got Anything Sharp?

* * *

Rogue was surprised to find that she and Jeff were rather evenly matched for distance walking. He had much longer legs and covered more ground, but Logan's endurance training meant that Rogue could actually outlast Jeff over long distances. Towards the end, they actually broke into a jog, backpacks and all, and she still could pull ahead of him. Rogue felt a bit smug about that, and was still teasing him about it when they reached the Institute.

Jeff leaned against the brick wall surrounding the Institute, panting, as Rogue typed in her code to open the gate. "I can't believe you've never read _The Lord of the Rings_," Jeff said, picking up the conversation from where they'd left off two blocks back. He managed to keep his voice somewhat even, though he still had to take deep breaths.

"Yeah, so?" Rogue shot back, also breathing hard. "You've never listened to Korn."

"Korn's not an ageless classic," Jeff pointed out as the gates opened.

"Korn's also easier to understand."

"That's _highly _debatable." Jeff looked up at the sky, listening. "Huh. I wonder why Logan needed the Rolls."

"What?" Rogue asked, taken aback by the sudden change in topic. She looked over her shoulder as she heard the noise of an engine. "Show off," she muttered. "You sure you don't have super-hearing or something?"

"Pretty sure," Jeff said cheerfully. "The Rolls has a distinctive sound, that's all."

The Rolls-Royce came to a stop just inside the gate, and the driver's window rolled down. Logan poked his head out. "Smarty, Stripes. Training session in an hour. Tell the Half-Pint to come too."

Rogue groaned. "Come on, Logan! I got a paper to write. Can't we do a Danger Room session some other time?"

"Ain't Danger Room. Go to the dojo. And I think you'll like it." The window rolled up again as the Rolls moved on.

"Well, that's something at least." Rogue hiked her backpack up on her shoulders. "Logan's usually less . . . creative in the dojo. And we were going to spar anyway."

"Yesterday wasn't that bad," Jeff pointed out.

"That's just because Logan didn't plan that session. It was something Storm was going to run. She had to leave, though, so he was supervising."

"Oh."

Rogue looked at Jeff. "Speaking of which . . . Okay, I admit the Rolls has a distinctive sound. How come you knew it was Logan and not Storm? She got back from her trip today."

"Because I think that's her up there," Jeff said, pointing up.

Rogue looked up to see a figure about a hundred feet overhead. She grunted. "Like I said. Show-off."

Jeff shrugged. "No one ever looks up," he said, trying to hide a smirk.

"Except you, you freak."

"Well, I only looked up because I was listening to the car noise," Jeff admitted. "I might have trained myself to notice stuff, but people flying isn't something I normally look for."

"No, I suppose not." Rogue looked up at the figure, remembering the first time she encountered something like that. Or tried to; her memories were still a little skewed from discovering her power that same night.

Jeff followed her gaze. "On the other hand," he said, "I think I'm getting used to how the laws of physics keep getting broken around here."

"That?" Rogue asked, smirking. "That ain't breaking. That's just bending. Wait'll you see her blow up a mini-hurricane in under a minute and _then_ you'll see breakage. We don't call her a weather-witch for nothing."

"She must drive the local weatherman crazy."

Rogue started, her manner changing suddenly. "What am I now, call forwarding?" she asked the empty air.

"What?" Jeff asked, confused.

"It's the Prof," Rogue said, glancing up at Xavier's office window. "He wants to talk to you."

"Oh?" Jeff followed her gaze, though he couldn't see through the glass at this distance. "Does he normally do that?"

"Yeah. I guess you're the only one he won't be able to talk to directly, so we get to pass messages for you."

"Sorry. Well, guess we should go see."

"He didn't ask me to come. Just you."

"Did he say you couldn't come?"

"Well . . . no."

"Okay then. Until he says you can't I don't see any reason not to."

Rogue blinked, but then shrugged. "Sure." Privately, she was glad; she'd felt left out on Saturday, and the fact that Jeff wanted her along gave her a sort of warm feeling that she did her best to ignore.

* * *

Dr. Xavier did not, in fact, seem to mind Rogue's presence, but rather accepted it without question. "Jeff, Rogue," he said in greeting, "I have something to show you." Dr. Xavier pushed some buttons at his desk computer, and a moment later a hologram formed in the center of the room.

"Wow," Jeff said, as he looked at a holographic representation of the areas surrounding the Institute, out to a ten-mile radius. "That sure beats Google Earth. How'd you get a hologram of something like that?"

Xavier smiled. "Well, Google Earth. Or, to be more precise, the same satellite photos that Google Earth uses, extrapolated into a three-dimensional image."

"But where's the hologram tech come from? I've been wondering that ever since I saw Kurt's disguise. I didn't know we had stuff this good."

Rogue rolled her eyes behind Jeff's back, amused.

"Various sources. I have the aid of a young mutant named Forge, who, while not a member of the Institute, nonetheless grants us access to some of his inventions." Xavier coughed delicately. "Of course, his work is mainly a refinement of what I had earlier; but that was received through a . . . private donation."

"I see." Jeff's tone indicated that he of course did not see, but was still willing to drop the subject. "Anyway, much as I like the pretty picture, I assume you didn't call us up here just to show us Google Earth 3D."

"No, I did not. You recall I spoke to you about Cerebro?"

Jeff nodded. "Basically, you've got a Cray in the basement hooked up to something that mimics part of your telepathic power."

"What's a Cray?" Rogue asked. She knew what Cerebro was, of course. It was the heart of the Xavier Institute, enabling any telepath who put on its headset to expand the range of his power. Xavier, when channeling through the computer, could extend his power to the other side of the world.

"It's a type of supercomputer," Xavier answered her. "Actually, the previous Cerebro was a Cray; Cerebro II is actually something different. But I digress."

Jeff's right eyebrow twitched ever so slightly upward, but he refrained from pushing.

"Cerebro," Xavier went on, "performs passive scans of the entire world, looking for mutant signatures. It is slow and clumsy on its own, but it still helps us keep track of mutants and, hopefully, prevent premature exposure.

"A good deal of the processing power is devoted to the surrounding area, of course, over the space you see here. Cerebro cannot monitor it every moment, but when an active mutant power is being used over a certain threshold, depending on each signature's profile, Cerebro will go to active scan and record."

"You mean you can identify a mutant through Cerebro?" Jeff asked. "And certain mutants get watched more than others?"

"Yes, exactly. Today, Cerebro recorded this." Xavier pressed a button.

The floating hologram zoomed in on the school. A dialogue box appeared over the grounds, pointing to a particular spot. _Pietro Maximoff/Quicksilver_, it read. Most of the notations made no sense to Rogue, but the speed indicator did. "Idiot's going to get us exposed," she muttered.

"Possibly," Xavier replied. "However, that was simply the trigger for the recording. Observe."

The blinking dot that was Pietro jetted around the school a bit in fits and starts. A moment later, another dot appeared on the back edge of the property, which a dialogue box labeled _Lance Alvers/Avalanche. _Another notation gave what Rogue assumed was the strength and range of Lance's power, or at least its effect at that moment. It disappeared a moment later, but Pietro's dot soon zoomed towards it.

Rogue looked at Jeff. Obviously this was what he'd been talking about at lunch. However, Jeff simply stood there, arms crossed over his chest, watching the recording. Rogue looked back at the hologram in time to see Pietro's indicator jump, disappear, and then reappear a moment later.

Xavier paused the playback. "Can I assume you understand that?" he asked the two of them.

"Smarty-pants here probably does, but I ain't got a clue," Rogue told him.

"Very well. Observe Quicksilver's indicator. Notice these two numbers -- they indicate both his speed and how much energy he is channeling."

The recording moved back a few seconds, zoomed in even closer, then went on at slow speed. At first, Quicksilver's indicator moved in what seemed a leisurely pace, circling around an empty spot. Of course, Rogue knew Jeff was standing in the center of that circle; he simply did not show up on Cerebro's scans. A moment later, however, Quicksilver seemed to jump to the center of that circle. His speed indicator went from around a hundred fifty miles per hour to zero, while his power indicator quadrupled. Then Quicksilver jumped back to where he had last been, his speed still zero and his power levels almost that low.

"Now do you understand?" Xavier asked. His gaze lingered on Jeff.

"I assume," Jeff began, pausing to gather his thoughts, "that mutant powers draw on some source that is so far undetectable by any means, except that telepathy can register mutants actively drawing on this energy?"

"In a certain sense, yes," Xavier answered, only a single blink to betray his surprise. "May I ask how you knew this?"

"Well, conservation of energy. It has to come from somewhere; it's not possible for one person to actually produce energy like that of the typical mutant power spontaneously. I haven't noticed anyone getting really hungry after using a lot of their powers. I expect that the only one that's really like that is Logan after a lot of healing, simply to replace body mass. I know I have to eat more than most people, but that's apparently uncommon.

"As to it being undetected?" Jeff gave Xavier a lopsided smile. "You presented my introduction to mutant-kind in such a way as to appeal to my interests, namely science and history. If you knew where this energy came from, you would have told me.

"I was also wondering about Rogue's power in particular," Jeff continued, and Rogue looked up again. "If a mutant power were entirely self-generated, then Rogue wouldn't be able to absorb it without changing her physically, which doesn't fit in with what she's told me. So it seems -- at least to me -- that she creates some sort of psychic template that redirects at least a portion of this power to herself. Anyway, it fits in with some philosophy stuff I'm reading on the powers of the soul, from a Dr. Anthony Andres.

"And, finally, you're normally very careful with your words. You said that Pietro -- or Quicksilver or whatever -- was _channeling _his power, not generating it."

Xavier nodded. "Yes. Very good. Please excuse my surprise; I suppose I'm too used to picking up someone's thoughts, even if only subconsciously. On the other hand, most logical deductions seem obvious when pointed out. I assume, then, that you understand the display?"

Jeff tilted his head, looking up at the hologram. "Well, I'd been thinking that my power blocked a mutant's access to his power. Looking at that, it seems more like I redirect it completely. Cerebro seems to have registered me as Quicksilver for a moment, just as I released his stored energy in a burst -- like suddenly letting all the air out of a balloon."

"Is that why Quicksilver completely stopped?" Rogue asked.

"Maybe." Jeff looked at the floor, considering. "But I think it mainly depends on the exact way he uses his power. Kind of like the power was actually causing the speed, rather than powering it. Does that make sense?"

"No, not really." Rogue shrugged. "But that's not saying much."

Xavier cleared his throat. "Regardless, this is the first recorded instance I have of your power in use, and it raises some interesting questions I'd like to answer, such as if this is an ability that can be sustained for long periods of time. It seems your power might be worn out by a constant strain, such as what happened when I tried to read your mind. Even so, your . . . shield, shall we call it, returned when you passed out."

"Sorry, Dr. Xavier, but no tests until I've actually decided to join full time," Jeff reminded him. "Training, sure. And feel free to task Cerebro to monitor me for more data. But no poking or prodding or asking me to turn my head and cough."

Xavier's mouth twitched. "Yes, of course," he said, amused. "I suppose I hoped you'd agree to it anyway, but I hadn't forgotten our agreement. So I will drop the subject. However, it brings me to my other reason for calling you up here. Namely, I wanted to know exactly what happened. I can see there was a more or less peaceful outcome, but from Cerebro's data it appears to have come somewhat close."

Jeff shrugged. "It was basically an inept attempt at recruiting. Quicksilver was the one who really let it go downhill. Lance seemed a nice enough guy at first, if a bit rough around the edges."

"Lance is an idiot," Rogue told him darkly.

"What exactly happened, Jeff?" Xavier asked.

Jeff looked up at the ceiling again, thinking. "Well, Lance just seemed to want to get to know me. Quicksilver was the one doing the actual recruiting. If you can call it that. I got sick of his antics and racist rhetoric and gave him a taste of my power."

Xavier frowned. "Hmm. Well, I knew keeping your talent a complete secret would be impossible, though I'd certainly been hoping to keep it under wraps for a little longer."

"I didn't give them an obvious demonstration, though," Jeff told him. "I just tapped him once as he was running around me."

"Don't underestimate either Lance or Pietro," Xavier cautioned. "They are far more used to the idea of mutant abilities than you are, and so are more likely to take notice of exactly what happened. I think it is safe to assume they understand your power; and what Pietro knows, Magneto is likely to know as well."

"Magneto?" Jeff tilted his head. "How so?"

Xavier looked at him intently. "Pietro Maximoff's real name is Pietro Lensherr, son of Erik Lensherr. He is Magneto's only son."

Jeff's eyebrows rose. "Okay. Gotcha." He shook his head after a moment. "That's certainly something to keep in mind. It explains the racism, too."

"Yes." Xavier looked almost sad. "It's a pity, really. Eric of all people should know how destructive such an attitude can be. His entire family was killed in a Nazi concentration camp. He only survived because of a timely attack by Allied forces, liberating the remaining prisoners."

"Nazis?" Jeff frowned. "But that means he's got to be around seventy years old."

Xavier smiled faintly. "Erik was always . . . well-preserved. He also had a machine that seemed to grant a youthful appearance and vigor the last time I saw him. He called it his genetic enhancer. It worked to some degree, though from what I saw of others it was used on, it had a rather limited duration."

"How close a friend was he?" Jeff asked.

Rogue looked up, startled. _Magneto? A friend?_

Xavier looked surprised as well. "How did you know?" he asked.

"You're calling him Erik and talking about him as if you knew him personally, and not as enemies." Jeff shrugged. "I admit I'm guessing, but it sounds like you were once pretty close."

"We were," Xavier admitted. "He was the first mutant I ever encountered personally. A few years later, we made a pact to one day bring about a world where mutants and normal humans could live in harmony."

Xavier glanced up at a spot on the wall between two bookcases, and Rogue followed his gaze. She noticed a slight discoloration there, a rectangular area of slightly darker paint, as if an object had once hung there for many years while the wall around it was exposed to sunlight. The space was just the right size for a framed portrait.

_No way_, she thought.

"Unfortunately," Xavier continued, "Erik grew disillusioned and bitter, and we . . . went our separate ways.

"However," he continued, his tone becoming more brisk, "the fact remains that he works at cross purposes to us now. We might have the same end in mind -- a peaceful, integrated society -- but Erik and I have fundamentally different ideas of how to go about realizing that goal."

"I see," Jeff said, his tone thoughtful. Rogue took his lead and didn't ask anything more, though it was hard. "Anything else we can help you with, sir?" he asked.

There was the barest of pauses, and then Xavier shook his head. "No, Jeff. That's all."

* * *

"So what do you think it's about?" Kitty asked.

"How should I know, valley-brat?" Rogue snapped. She fiddled with the belt on her gi. "Logan just said to get down there, that's it. I don't know anything else."

"Okay, okay. Like, chill out, Rogue!" Kitty hit the button next to the elevator door. "Hey, you finish your history paper?"

"No," Rogue growled.

"How far'd you get?"

"Haven't started," Rogue admitted.

Kitty rolled her eyes. "Okay, so what are you writing on?"

"Haven't decided yet."

"Rogue! That thing's due on Monday, and you haven't even done any research?"

"I'll get it done." Rogue crossed her arms. "Not everyone's as quick as you are with this stuff, you know. Besides, I've got all weekend to work on it."

"Hmph. Not going to the game on Sunday?"

"Gag me with a sock."

"What about the Sadie Hawkins Dance, though?"

"What about it?"

"Aren't you going to that?"

"Why bother? Dances and me don't exactly mix."

The elevator dinged softly, and Kitty opened the door. "But now things are different," she said as they stepped in. "You can touch Jeff. Why not ask him?"

"I can't ask him!" Rogue protested.

"Why not?"

"Because . . ." Rogue trailed off, at a loss. "Just because," she said finally.

"Oh, don't be so nervous," Kitty said cheerfully. "He likes you. He'll say yes."

"Sure. Guy like him will go with a girl like me." _Except . . . he said he wanted to. Did he mean it, though?_

"I told you, he likes you. And you like him back, girl."

"We're just friends," Rogue protested, but she knew she didn't sound convincing.

"Whatever." Kitty waved a hand dismissively.

"Who are you asking?" Rogue asked, in an effort to get on the offensive.

Kitty looked away. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe Lance . . ."

"Lance? Oh, I'm gonna ralph. I thought you had better taste than that bum."

"Hey, Lance isn't that bad. He just, you know, doesn't do well with most people. And he's changed a bit since . . . um, since he came to Bayville."

The elevator came to a stop, and Rogue rolled her eyes. "You mean since I left the Brotherhood, don't you?" she asked, as she stepped out. "You don't have to tip-toe around it."

_Though I haven't told Jeff,_ she thought. _I can just imagine that conversation. "Hey, Jeff, guess what? I used to be an evil mutant working for Magneto. But don't worry, I'm better now."_

"I know." Kitty avoided looking at Rogue. "So do you think it's a bad idea?"

"Hey, your life, I ain't gonna tell you not to." Rogue shrugged. "He just doesn't seem your type. The others might care, though."

"I know. But how are we supposed to be trying to help all mutants if we shun some? I mean, you came out okay, right? Why shouldn't I try to do the same with Lance?"

"I suppose." _You sound like you're trying to convince yourself, girl,_ Rogue thought silently, ignoring the little voice that said she was doing the same thing. She turned a corner to see the door to the Institute's dojo. The light was already on, visible through the narrow window in the door.

"I guess we aren't as early as we thought," Kitty said, peering through the narrow window in the door.

"It's Jeff," Rogue said, looking as well. Jeff was sitting cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the dojo, his back to the door. Like the two girls, he was wearing a gi; however, his was black.

"Hmm." Kitty looked at him thoughtfully. "Wait here," she said, her tone mischievous.

Kitty sank into the floor up to her midriff, and then began to glide forward, phasing through the door. Rogue watched through the window, curious, as her roommate snuck up on Jeff. Kitty's phasing power was utterly silent, and she was no doubt holding her breath. Jeff shouldn't be able to tell she was there. _This ought to be good_, Rogue thought, amused.

Kitty stopped near Jeff and began to rise back out of the floor, likely to prevent herself from getting stuck due to Jeff's power. She reached out with both hands, just inches away.

But before she could touch him, Jeff suddenly twisted, rolling onto his right side while whipping his legs around to hook his left heel behind Kitty's knee. Kitty fell with a squeal of surprise as Jeff reversed his motion, rolling upright and leaping to his feet. He had a smirk on his face as he assumed a fighting stance.

Rogue fought a giggle at the sight. She opened the door and entered the dojo, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall, her face bearing an answering smirk.

Kitty groaned in frustration. "How did you know I was there?" she demanded.

There was the barest moment of hesitation, so faint that Rogue wondered if she simply imagined it. But then Jeff said, "I saw a shadow."

"Dang it," Kitty grumbled. "That usually works."

"It's fun to watch when she's sneaking up on Kurt," Rogue told him. "He gets startled easily, and he can jump pretty high."

"Sometimes he'll even teleport without thinking," Kitty said, getting back to her feet. Jeff helped her up. "He sort of disappears and then reappears in the same spot."

"I'll have to remember that," Jeff commented, smoothing out his gi. "I like having a good goal when I feel like being sneaky."

"Nice gi," Rogue commented. Now that Jeff had turned around, she could see the logo on the left breast: two dragons forming a circle, like the yin-yang symbol. One was a western dragon, winged and breathing fire, the other eastern, with no wings and with wisps of either smoke or a cloud around its body. It was tied closed with a brown belt, like the girls had; but Jeff's had a single knot on the right side. "Second-level brown belt, huh?"

"Yeah. Just got my first brown-knot before I had to move here," Jeff said. There was a touch of sadness in his voice. _He means just before his parents died,_ Rogue realized.

"Logan says we're almost at our first brown-belt knot," Kitty said cheerfully. "We're the only brown belts as it is, though, so he's been concentrating on the others a little more lately. Rogue would be at her first knot already if she didn't have to worry about skin contact while sparing."

"Good thing I've got you now, huh," Rogue asked, with a meaningful arch of an eyebrow. She began her pre-workout stretches.

"Just as long as you don't make a habit of hitting me the way you first tried to," Jeff replied.

"Huh?" Rogue frowned, confused. Then she remembered where she'd tried to put her knee a week ago. She blushed. "Hey, I didn't know you then!"

"Exactly my point. You know me better now, so you might get the urge to try that move again." Jeff's eyebrows arched innocently.

"What move was that?" Kitty asked, curious.

"The move we can only practice with Logan," Rogue muttered, embarrassed, "'cause he's the only one who can heal fast enough."

Kitty blinked a few times, but it suddenly dawned on her. "Oh. Ouch." She fought a giggle, and looked at Jeff. "She really did that to you?"

"Tried to," Jeff said cheerfully.

"Obviously you need more practice, Stripes."

The three kids looked up, startled, to see Logan leaning against the wall by the door. A large black bag was sitting at his feet. Kitty stifled a gasp.

"You three gotta work on your situational awareness," Logan said. "Particularly you, half-pint," he added, looking at Kitty. "You should have been able to sneak up on Maverick."

"Sorry, Mr. Logan," Kitty said, looking down.

Logan picked up the bag and walked to the center of the dojo. He was wearing a white gi similar to the girls. However, his was tied closed with a black belt which had seven knots tied into it. Of course, Rogue knew, after the second knot, it was more a matter of keeping score than actual rank.

"Nice dragons, McGovern," Logan said, eying Jeff's gi. "Any meaning?"

"It's supposed to symbolize a blend of western and eastern styles," Jeff told him. "My sensei liked stealing anything he could."

Logan grunted. "Interesting. I once had a tattoo just like that."

"Oh?" Jeff raised an eyebrow. "What made you remove it?"

"Nature. Tattoos are basically scars. I can't keep them for more than a few days, and that's with the really deep ones."

Logan dropped the bag again; its contents clanked, which made Rogue wonder how the heck he'd snuck into the room. _Then again, this _is _Wolverine. He's like a ninja. From Canada. _

"Okay, Brainiac," Logan said, opening the bag. "You said yesterday you knew how to use chucks."

"I did?" Jeff paused, then shrugged. "I don't remember, but yeah."

"It was when you were in the Danger Room with us," Rogue reminded him.

"Oh. Right."

"Here." Logan tossed Jeff a set of nunchaku, connected by a chain. Jeff caught it a trifle awkwardly. "Let's see what you've got."

"Okay." Jeff began flipping the nunchaku over both his shoulders, passing the weapon from hand to hand in a smooth, continuous motion. It was almost like he was drawing a sideways figure-eight in the air.

"Nice control, good speed. Let's run through some moves."

Jeff began going through certain moves as Logan called them out. Occasionally there was a bit of confusion as Logan used a different name than Jeff had learned, but mostly it went smoothly. Kitty and Rogue were watching intently.

"Good," Logan said finally. "Nice control. Very smooth. Looks good. And it's pure crap in a fight."

The look on Jeff's face was priceless. Rogue fought a giggle.

"The stuff you've learned is just for show," Logan told him. "It's similar to combat nunchaku-do, but it's off just enough that you aren't nearly as effective in a fight as you think you are. So you're going to have a problem unlearning that."

"Well, how likely is it that I'm going to have chucks in a fight?" Jeff asked. "It's illegal to even have them in the state of New York."

"Yeah. I know. I'd appreciate it if you don't mention these to your uncle. Still, you three are going to train in some weapons, including chucks. You three don't have offensive powers, and I want you to have a better chance of surviving against a more powerful mutant."

"But Rogue can just lay someone out with a touch, you know?" Kitty objected. "And Jeff can just turn a mutant's power off."

"Rogue can't count on that," Logan answered. "It doesn't knock out all mutants as quickly as others, and she needs skin contact. Plus some powers are dangerous for her to absorb. On top of that, if she has multiple opponents, just absorbing a bunch of personalities all at once is bad. As for McGovern, he's got almost as hard a time getting a touch, and even then he might not be able to take them out." With a _snik _of metal on metal, he popped all six of his claws out. "There's nothing mutant about these, y'know."

"Right," Jeff said, absently twirling his chucks. He kept twirling it once above, then once below his hand, and then repeating it without any sign of stopping. "Same thing with Dr. McCoy. I only seem to block actual powers; I don't reverse physical mutation."

"Can I see that?" Rogue asked, holding a hand out for the nunchucks.

Jeff raised a questioning eyebrow at Logan, who nodded. "Sure," Jeff said, handing them over.

"Thanks," Rogue said. She began spinning it slowly, getting a feel for the weapon.

"Still," Jeff continued, "why would we be carrying the chucks? And how useful are they really? Most of the powers here at the Institute work at range. Chucks are a melee weapon."

"In an open area, yes, they might not work as well," Logan conceded. "But you'd be surprised how much of our confrontations happen in buildings. Close-quarters combat is pretty common.

"Also, you'll have more to choose from. I'll be teaching you three bo staff, sai, naginata, and katana."

"Woah. Okay." Jeff shook his head. "That's a lot. And that's more of a problem than just the chucks. A sai is one thing, but how are we going to carry around a katana or a naginata?"

"What's a naginata?" Kitty asked.

"Think of a big-bladed spear," Jeff answered.

"Oh."

There was a smack of wood against flesh and bone, followed by some choice swear words. Logan, Jeff, and Kitty looked at Rogue, who was rubbing her forearm. She froze under their gaze. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I got it working, though."

"Got what working?" Jeff asked.

"That spin thing you were doing. See?" Rogue began spinning the chucks once above and once below her hand. She managed to keep it up for almost thirty seconds before smacking her arm again. She stopped, hissing.

"Wait, you just picked that up?"

"Um . . . yeah. Obviously. Except for how I keep hitting myself."

"Not bad," Logan muttered.

Jeff shook his head. "Rogue, that took me about a half hour to do without hitting myself. And I was taught by my sensei; you just watched me."

"Well, Stripes, you ought to pick up the rest pretty quickly," Logan noted. "As for your objections, McGovern," he said, going back to the previous topic, "you'll be getting a new toy, courtesy of Forge."

"Forge?" Jeff asked, puzzled. "Wait, the inventor guy. Dr. Xavier mentioned him."

"Yeah. Him. He's come up with a . . ." Logan trailed off. He sniffed the air. "Never mind. I'll let him explain it."

The door to the dojo opened just wide enough for a head to pop through. "Yo, dudes and dudettes! Everybody kung-fu fightin'?"

Rogue rolled her eyes. "It's not kung-fu, you _70s Show_ reject."

"Love you too, girl," said the boy, walking into the room. He was about medium height, with dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes, and a rather retro-looking wardrobe. He looked like a Native American, and was carrying what appeared to be a steel rod in his left hand.

Logan nodded at the newcomer. "Forge, meet Jeff McGovern, alias Maverick. McGovern, Forge."

"Hey, dude, how's it hanging?" Forge said cheerfully, holding out his hand.

Jeff shook it. "Nice to meet you, Forge," he said. He looked down at their clasped hands as if slightly confused.

"It's a prosthetic," Forge told him, smiling. "That's why it feels funky."

"Oh." Jeff let go. "Pretty realistic."

"Thanks. I made it myself. Not exactly sure how I did it, especially since I made it back in the seventies."

Jeff's eyebrows rose. "Okay. I don't know whether I should be more curious about you looking half your age at most, or that you don't know how you invented the most realistic prosthetic I've ever seen."

Forge shrugged. "I was stuck in a pocket universe for a while. I didn't age in there. Then the X-dudes bailed me out last year. As for the arm, well . . . I just make things. I don't always know why or how they work."

"Forge is like a weird psychic mutant," Kitty interjected. "We're not sure if it's precognitive or what, but he's able to just tinker with things and make stuff years ahead of its time."

"Yup," said Forge. "It's pretty rad. I think I'm on the track for an antigravity device. Or maybe it's more like counter-gravity? I don't know. But anyway, that's on the back burner for now. I've been working on this." He hefted the metal rod in his hand. "Well, this and something for Nightcrawler."

"What's that?" Kitty asked.

"I call it memory-plastic," Forge said proudly. "Or more specifically, for this thing, a multiweapon."

"Oh, _cool_," Jeff said, obviously impressed. Rogue supposed he had already guessed what it was. She had a fair idea herself, from the name and seeing Forge's other stuff. "How's it work?"

"I have no clue. Unless you mean how you operate it, in which case you just twist this end, flip up the cap, turn this little dial here like this, close the lid, twist it back in place . . . and viola!"

With its lid snapped closed again, the rod began to lengthen of its own accord. It thinned a little as it did so, but mostly it just seemed to gain its new length -- about four more feet -- out of thin air.

"Okay . . . wow." Jeff shook his head in wonder. "May I?" he asked, holding his hand out for the device.

"Sure," Forge said, tossing it to him in a somewhat careless manner.

Jeff held it gingerly at first, as if afraid he would break it, but then started spinning it around. "Good balance. A little light, though."

"Yeah, I know," Forge said. "But don't worry about breaking it. I'm not exactly sure what it's made of -- except that it's mostly plastic-based, since that's what I used in my little witches' brew -- but it's mostly composed of buckministerfullerene tubes and balls that can be set to align in particular shapes, activated by a small electrical charge."

"You made buckyballs?" Jeff stared at Forge.

"And buckytubes?" Kitty added, in the same tone of voice.

Forge shrugged. "I also made a new material, but you're not so weirded out about that. What gives?"

"Buckyballs are something we can understand," Jeff answered.

"Speak for yourselves," Rogue muttered.

"It's a particular artificial molecule," Kitty told her. "Well, actually an artificial structure you can make out of molecules. It's named after a guy named Buckminister Fuller, the inventor of the geodesic dome, because it's the same shape. You know, the dome things they put in playgrounds for kids to climb all over? Buckyballs and tubes are useful because they're, like, wicked strong but weigh hardly anything because they're hollow."

"They're . . . hard to make," Jeff added. "Really hard. And I would have thought impossibly expensive to make enough to for something like this."

"Well . . . yeah, kinda. I've been negotiating with this think tank in New York City. They've managed to provide me with some access to their stuff. I got permission to have some of this to work with on my own, as long as they get to keep most of it. I can make two more of these and still have enough left over to do my stuff. The process is a lot cheaper than the normal way of making buckministerfullerene, but even those brains don't know why it works just yet."

"Okay, that's really mind-blowing. You've got _that much_ of this stuff?" Jeff shook his head, but then he flashed a grin. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Which setting's the nunchaku?"

"Um, number five. Number one is the default rod shape, two's the quarterstaff --"

"Bo staff," Logan corrected.

"Right, bo staff, sorry. Then it's that spear thing --"

"Naginata."

"Yeah, never mind, you figure it out. I don't know these funky names. I just scanned the stuff and entered the shapes."

Jeff twirled the multiweapon, now in its nunchuck form. Unlike the one Logan had handed him, it was bridged by cord rather than chain -- though the "cord" in this case was simply a more flexible section of memory-plastic. "Better," he pronounced. "I like the weight. And the ability to change between weapons is _really_ shiny. I only have one question."

"Yeah?"

"Do they come in black?"

Rogue snorted in an attempt to stifle her laughter.

Forge shrugged. "Hadn't thought about it. That's the natural color; I don't know if I can bind any kind of dye to the pieces."

"Oh well. It was a thought."

"The main downside to this thing is that the shapes are a pain to program, and there can only be so many. For these, I managed to cram in five settings, not counting the default shape, because they're all basically rods. The bright side is that the electrical current that activates the change doesn't have to be very high. The prototype uses just a single AA battery. It's easy to change out, and it'll last for at least five hundred changes, probably more. There's a warning light under the cap that will come on when you get to the last twenty or so changes."

"So eventually we're each going to get one of these?" Rogue asked.

"Yup," Logan confirmed. "'Course, there's only one at the moment, so you'll have to pass it between you three to practice with. That's later, though. And with the understanding that you do _not_ practice with the naginata, sai, or the katana. They're all very sharp."

"Right," said Rogue sarcastically. "We know not to run with scissors, Logan."

"I mean it, Rogue!" Logan snapped. He had a dark look on his face, like a storm front about to spit lightning. "Those blades are almost as sharp as mine. I _will_ train you in how to use them, but for now I don't want you even touching them. And you will all need to keep them away from the others. They do _not _have permission to use them. They don't even have permission to touch the multiweapon, no matter which setting it's on. Clear?"

Kitty, Rogue, and Jeff all nodded obediently.

"Okay. Good." Logan took two more nunchaku from his bag. "You all know the basics of bo staff fighting, so we're going on to chucks. You'll practice both for this weekend. Brainiac, you and Stripes pair off. Teach her the simple-up, simple exchange, and guard. No strikes. You need to work on that as well. Half-pint -- you're with me, same deal."

* * *

At the end of the practice session, Rogue was feeling much more cheerful. She'd breezed through everything that Jeff tried teaching her. It only took her three tries to get to the "guard" position -- something Jeff was left speechless over. He claimed it had taken him an hour to learn that move properly, and here she was nailing it every time already.

Since Logan had only named three moves, Rogue had thought she was done in about fifteen minutes. All that the "simple up" meant was to get the chuck over your shoulder, catching and holding with the opposite hand. An exchange was just switching that to the other shoulder, while a guard was a one-handed catch under the arm. Easy enough, as it turned out. However, as Jeff showed her, those three moves were the basis for almost everything else. Once she had the basic moves down, Jeff began showing her how to change direction and stance in mid-motion. After a few minutes, Rogue began seeing the value of the moves, as they allowed her to react to threats from several different directions.

"So, when do I learn how to hit someone?" Rogue asked, grinning.

"Um . . . well, anytime, I guess," Jeff answered, still looking wowed at her progress. "If Logan says you're ready."

As if on cue, Logan called out, "Okay, folks. That's enough for today."

Forge clapped like he'd seen a performance. "That was way cool, guys. Wish I could do that."

"You could always join the Institute," Kitty pointed out. She was rubbing her forearm; Rogue had noticed she'd smacked herself there several times during the lesson. "You could do this sort of stuff all the time."

"Nah. I'm not Institute material. I'm just a tinkerer. But I do like helping out with stuff around here. My power really tingles whenever I'm here. I keep getting flashes of cool stuff."

"Well, if they're anything like this, I'm all for it," Jeff said, hefting the multiweapon.

"Boys and their toys," Rogue said teasingly.

"You got that right. This thing makes me tempted to stay at the Institute all by itself."

"Really?" Kitty asked in a mischievous tone. "Nothing else?"

"Oh, plenty of other stuff," Jeff answered, looking at her. Behind him, Rogue shot Kitty a glare. "I'm just saying that this is a really shiny little item. And I get to have one if I join permanently? I'd almost say Logan's trying to bribe me."

"Of course I ain't," Logan said gruffly. "I don't bother bribing people. I just give them incentive."

"Come on, Jeff, admit it," Kitty wheedled. "You want to stay. Why bother with this whole trial period thing?"

"Let the kid decide on his own, Half-Pint," Logan told her. "As I recall, you needed to get used to the idea yourself."

"Whatever," Kitty said cheerfully. "I'm still right."

"Ah, Logan?" Jeff asked, attempting to change the subject. "Who gets the multiweapon for now?"

"I do, Smarty," Logan replied. "I'm going to put it through some more paces before you three start practicing with it unsupervised. You'll take some wooden chucks to practice with."

"Oh."

Rogue almost laughed at the look of disappointment on Jeff's face. "Come on, Jeff, don't be impatient," she said.

Jeff pretended to be insulted. "I'm not impatient, I just don't like waiting."

"Speaking of waiting, it's time for dinner," Kitty said, skipping over to the wall. "Race you!" She jumped right through.

"As if that's fair," Rogue scoffed.

"She'd better not hit any electrical lines," Logan muttered. He shook his head. "You kids go on. I want to do some exercises."

"Okay, Logan," Rogue answered, her borrowed chucks in hand. "Thanks for the lesson and all."

* * *

Jeff hefted the wooden nunchaku in his hand as he stepped into the elevator. It was the chain one he'd originally practiced with. He preferred a cord bridge, really. It was quieter than chain, though chain would spin more easily and wouldn't fray from friction.

_More weapons for the secret war_, Jeff thought. _The war I know nothing about. Not that chucks are exactly the most powerful weapon created, of course. The multiweapon might be a problem, though. No metal, so it can get through security. It doesn't look like a weapon normally, either. Almost a perfect concealed weapon._

_I think the X-Men are the good guys, but I should really talk to Lance. He seemed somewhat reasonable, at least until that Quicksilver guy showed up. I need to find out more about what's going on. _

"Whatcha thinking about?" Rogue asked.

Jeff looked up. "Oh, nothing," he said.

"You're pretty good with that thing, you know," she said.

Jeff shook his head. "Not like you. I might know more, but you're a natural. You're so much a natural you're like a freak of nature."

"Of course I am." Rogue fixed him with an evil-looking little grin. "I'm a mutant, remember? You don't get more freak-of-nature than that."

"Right. Of course. How silly of me."

The pause that followed began to feel awkward to Jeff. He noticed Rogue was fidgeting a little.

"Sorry we didn't get to the pressure-point moves," Jeff said eventually.

"That's okay," Rogue replied. "There's always tomorrow."

"Yeah."

Another pause. The elevator came to a stop.

"Well, I'll see you at dinner," Jeff said, as the stepped out. He turned to go down the hall to his room.

"Jeff," Rogue said suddenly, after Jeff had only taken a few steps.

"Yes?" He turned to look at her.

Rogue didn't meet his eyes. In fact, she seemed to be looking anywhere except at Jeff. "After lunch, when we were talking . . . is there any reason why you don't want to ask me out just yet?"

Under his glasses, Jeff blinked. "Um. Well, not really, I guess. I've just been raised to take that sort of thing slowly. I only met you a week and --" he checked his watch "-- eight hours ago."

"Oh." Rogue reached up and fiddled with her bangs, absently twirling her white and brown hairs together. "I, um . . . What if I asked you to the Sadie Hawkins dance on Saturday?" The words came out in a rush.

_Wow_, Jeff thought. _Wasn't expecting that_.

"Well," he said out loud, "I'm not good at the sort of things you dance at those parties. I know swing and waltz, but I never got the hang of the shaky suff. Plus . . . I'm kind of against the whole girls-ask-guys deal. Call me sentimental, but I like the traditional way of doing things."

"Oh," Rogue said again. She dropped her hand, apparently having realized what she was doing. "Well . . . I was just curious." She started to turn away.

"On the other hand," Jeff said, the grin he'd been fighting finally making its way to the surface, "there's a first time for everything."

Rogue looked back, a brief glare crossing her face as she saw his smile. She softened almost immediately though, and smiled back. "So . . . would you like to go to the dance with me on Saturday?"

"Sure." Jeff held up a finger. "On one condition."

"What?"

"I take you to dinner first. I'm not going to turn all the traditions upside down just yet."

Rogue flashed Jeff one of her million-watt smiles. "I'd like that."

"Right." Jeff motioned down the hallway. "I'm, um, going to get changed. See you in a few minutes, okay?"

"Oh, right. See you."

Jeff smiled as he walked back to his room. _Well, Mom_, he thought, _if you saw her you'd probably freak over her makeup and clothes and everything. And Dad, you'd be lecturing me on going too fast. But in the end . . . I think you'd both like her._

_I know I do._

* * *

_He said yes!_ Rogue's heart was racing, like she'd just started one of Logan's full-out Danger Room sessions. _And he wants to take me to dinner._ . . _Wow. I guess this is payback for my life so completely sucking for the last few years. Oh, God, I hope nothing goes wrong . . ._

The moment she turned the corner, Kitty's head popped out of a wall. "Like, congratulations, girl!"

"What the -- were you eavesdropping, Valley-Brat?" Rogue yelled, furious.

Kitty grinned, unabashed. "Told you he liked you."

* * *

_Conclusion of "Horizons"_

_To Be Continued  
in Maverick, Volume 3:_  
"_Shadow Dance_"

* * *

**Next:**  
It's Jeff and Rogue's first date, at the annual Sadie Hawkins Dance. But when you're a mutant, you have more to worry about than your wardrobe. Between alien monsters and super-powered brawling, a simple date is looking a little unlikely for the two teens.

And to top it off, an old enemy of the X-Men has resurfaced. She has her own plans for Rogue and Jeff, and she's closer than they think . . .

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Those of you who have written to me expressing your enjoyment of the science-geek moments should have enjoyed this issue. I actually had to cut some of it, because I was getting too involved. The scene in Xavier's office had a lot more references to the philosophy of human nature and the way the mind works. Now it's been cut down to a bare minimum. One of these is the mention of Dr. Anthony Andres, a former professor of philosophy at my college. I had him for my metaphysics class last year; he's now working at Thomas Aquinas College in California, his alma mater. This was my little homage to him.

I hope that the training session wasn't too confusing. It's hard to describe chucking moves on paper; unlike with other forms of martial arts, the terms are almost universally unfamiliar. It doesn't help that I learned a very non-traditional form, with very descriptive English names rather than poetical translated ones. Basically, I can do almost every move Bruce Lee does with chucks in his movies (at least that I've seen), I just can't describe them very well. (Bruce Lee does it much faster, of course . . . but those movies still use wimpy foam chucks.)

Rogue's aptitude with nunchucks is based on my own experience with member Lady Hour Glass, both from personally teaching her and when she joined my own class later on. She really is a freak of nature. My sensei had thought I was exaggerating until he had a chance to work with her himself. She and I did a performance (to E Nomine's _Vater Unser_) at Coffeehouse, our college's end of the year performance night. She'd been learning for only three weeks, and she did better than I did. Unfortunately, that won't have an analogue in this story; nunchaku really _are_ illegal in New York, whatever the Second Amendment says. (Though, technically, the multiweapon isn't. I wish I had one.)

Finally, I'm going on hiatus for a while, as I already mentioned. This hiatus might extend longer than I'd originally thought, so if you like the story I encourage you to add it to your story alerts so that you'll get an email when I finally update again. This might not be until December, but I'll try to get it out sooner. I just don't want to pause in the middle of a full story-arc, so I want to get through Shadow Dance before I start releasing it.

Thanks for your patience and support. Write a review or send me a private message and tell me what you like. I even take requests, though there are no guarantees I'll have room for your favorite character or X-Men story. That doesn't mean I don't want to know what you're looking for, so feel free to ask away. I'll see y'all soon.


	7. Issue 7: Shadow Dance: Conversations

Yes, everyone, I'm alive, don't worry! Thanks for the emails and everything. For those who don't already know, I've been down the last few months with illness -- literally down, since for a while I was doing barely more than sleeping, eating, and trying to stay awake in class. I was sleeping as much as twelve hours a day at times. Fortunately, they found out the reason -- a lung problem aggravated by my allergy to smoking products (there are a lot of smokers on my campus, including a professor who smells like he's smoking even when he isn't). I'm slowly recovering, and hopefully I'll be able to finish writing the rest of Shadow Dance soon.

This (and the next two updates) were already written when I started posting this story. I wanted to finish writing all of Shadow Dance before I began posting parts of it, though. But I've come to the decision (partly due to requests from readers) to just put them up anyway. I might delay part three, though, because it's got a rather aggrivating cliffhanger ending (or so my beta readers tell me).

But for now, enjoy.

* * *

X-Men: Evolution

_Maverick_ #7:

Shadow Dance, Part 1

_Conversations_

by

Bookwyrm

This Isn't a Soap Opera. Honest.

* * *

"So, what's the reading for today?" Rogue asked, putting her tray down. 

"_Honor: A History_, by James Bowman," Jeff replied, showing her the book. "It's actually giving me some insight into the like of Duncan Matthews and his ilk. What's the slop for today?"

"Well, they're calling it spaghetti and meatballs. I guess the spaghetti part's accurate. I'm not so sure about the meatballs. Am I to understand you ran into Jean's favorite quarterback?"

"Yeah. Can't say I understand what she sees in him. She doesn't strike me as the type to like bullies. Even if he is the chief bully."

"What happened?" Rogue asked, opening her bottle of juice.

"Well, nothing much. He and Bat-Boy -- I think his name's Greg? -- anyway, they both stopped me in the hall after first period. Duncan gave me a spiel about staying out of their way. I'm the new guy, I shouldn't be poking my head where it doesn't belong, that sort of thing."

"Oh, good," Rogue said, fighting a grin. "I'd hate to see you starting any more fights."

Jeff raised an eyebrow and assumed a lofty tone. "Me? I'll have you know, Miss D'Ancanto, I never start fights. It's far more important to finish them. He who moves first normally puts himself at a disadvantage."

"Oh, I see," she answered, amused. "Tactical judo."

"More like strategic judo. 'The good fighters of old first put themselves beyond the possibility of defeat, and then waited for an opportunity of defeating the enemy.'"

"And what movie would that one be from?"

"None. It's Sun Tzu's_Art of War_. Handy little book. Applies to everything from battle to business to schoolyard scuffles. You ought to read it sometime."

Rogue shook her head. "Where do you get this stuff? You're always reading something new."

Jeff shrugged. "Hey, when you effectively have an extra six hours in the day, you have to fill it up somehow. I've got a part-time job doing web design, but that only takes me a few hours a week."

"Most people would just watch TV."

"Have you seen the state of TV at three in the morning? It's not pretty, I'll tell you that. Sometimes there's something good on the weekend, like reruns of _Doctor Who_ or something. That's what I'd watch back home." Jeff paused, considering. "Though I admit, we only had broadcast TV; the Institute has satellite. I suppose I ought to look at some programing guides."

"Knowing you, it'll be the Discovery Channel, twenty-four/seven."

Jeff looked at her innocently. "What do you take me for, some kind of pure-science geek? Of course it won't. I'll be looking at the History Channel too, you know."

Rogue snorted, though her green eyes were definitely smiling. "Right, of course, how could I forget. So tell me, Brainiac, how is a book on honor teaching you anything about Dumbkin and the almighty sports players?"

"Oh, right." Jeff lifted the book and started flipping through it for a particular passage. "Well, according to this guy, 'honor groups' form around any organization, but especially male-dominated groups -- like sports teams. And if you impugn someone's honor, you often have the whole group up after you. Or, as he puts it in the introduction: when you get someone, don't expect they won't try to get you back."

"So because we dissd one of their club members, they're all after us."

"Kinda. Except they're more after me. I think they've pretty much forgotten about you. It's the new guy they're more irritated about. You 'only' fought back. I actually called him out by assuming some level of superiority."

Rogue swallowed her food. "Sorry," she mumbled.

Jeff shrugged. "I don't think Duncan is really serious about it. Bat Boy was looking disappointed that Duncan didn't push it any further."

"Probably afraid of ticking off Jean by messing around with her fellow Institute members. He doesn't want her dumping him for Scott, after all."

"Why are those two even together, anyway? Duncan seems just a little shallow for a person with Jean's . . . skills."

"Beats me." Rogue reached out a hand for Jeff's book. "Here, lemme see that for a bit."

"Sure." Jeff handed it to her. "I've only read the first few chapters, but it's really interesting so far."

Rogue paged through it. "Jeez, you think you wrote enough in the margins?"

"Yeah, sorry. I do that a lot."

"And your handwriting sucks."

"Hey, I've only got so much room in the margins." Jeff grinned. "Besides, you should see my uncle's. It looks like ancient Minoan or something."

"I guess yours is ancient Greek, then." Rogue peered at one note. "Does that say Magneto?"

Jeff looked over her shoulder. "Yeah. I was wondering if that applied to him. That section's about Islamic terrorism, but the basics can apply to radical cults, too. Magneto sounds like a cross between Osama bin Ladin and one of the cult leaders John Douglas was writing about in_Mindhunter_, a guy named Charles Manson. I'm hoping I can get some more information from Dr. Xavier to see if I'm on the right track."

"You sure you should be writing that sort of thing down?" Rogue asked, her voice low.

"It's not like it's going to blow the secret," Jeff told her, shrugging. "If they know that 'Magneto' refers to something other than a part in a lawnmower, then they already know that mutants exist." He flashed her a crooked smile. "Besides, weren't you just saying my handwriting sucks? Most people will give up trying to read my shorthand notes."

Rogue still looked uncomfortable, but a moment later she just shrugged. "Okay. Got any other books in your geek library that apply to this stuff?"

"Not that I can think of off hand," Jeff said, relaxing at her more teasing tone. "There's Sun Tzu, of course, but I doubt my stuff on Celtic history or anthropology or world myths will help."

"Oh well. Just wanted to see how endless your supply was. What's _Mindhunter_about? The Professor seemed interested when I told him you were reading it. Is it just about cults?"

"No. It's about the subject of criminal profiling, but written like a semi-autobiography. It talks about the history of profiling, how it's used, stuff like that. You know, getting inside the mind of the killer, figure out how he thinks, what he likes, and through that start to predict his behavior. It's mostly about serial killers, though it mentions a few cultists."

"Maybe I could read it sometime?"

Jeff frowned. "Um, it's pretty graphic. Most people I know can't deal with that sort of thing."

"I can handle it," Rogue said confidently.

"Well, visualize this first. Chopped up body parts stuffed in the freezer right next to the frozen hamburger and the strawberry ice cream."

"Sounds like a scene from one of my favorite horror movies."

Jeff shrugged again. "Okay. I warned you, though."

"Don't worry." Rogue smiled. "If I wake up with a nightmare, I'll just get you to sing me back to sleep."

Jeff found himself distracted by that smile. "Sure thing," he said absently.

Rogue's smile faded slightly as she looked into his glasses. She started to lean closer.

"Hey you two," Risty said, sitting down without looking at them. Rogue and Jeff both jumped slightly, startled by the interruption. "I hope your day's been better than mine. I've had a bloody time of it, pardon my French."

Rogue cleared her throat. "Hi, Risty," she said to the blue-haired girl. "What happened?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just turns out that there's a test Thursday in history and Mr. Glover says I have to take it even though I wasn't here for last week. Not that that's really much of an excuse, I admit. I pretty much sleep through his class anyway."

"You were on a required trip, though," Jeff objected. "Surely he'd have to take it into account."

"He says it's like any other time off from school. You have to make up the work and take the tests like anyone else." Risty shrugged. "Oh well. At least it's not British history, y'know? I can never keep all those kings straight, with everyone named the same. I like American history. Wild frontier, taking what you earn by blood and sweat and your own hard work. Tolerance, freedom, and all that good stuff." She raised her milk carton as if in a toast. "Anyway, dear, are you up for going to see Deathstrike 2 after school?"

Rogue blinked a few times, obviously taken aback by the abrupt change of subject. "Oh, right," she said after a moment. "Sorry. I actually forgot all about it."

"Well, I hope you didn't make new plans already," Risty said, looking at Jeff. "We've been planing to go for weeks now."

"No. Well, I mean, Jeff and I were going to, um, go over some stuff, that's all."

"Jeff, you don't mind if I borrow my girl for the afternoon, do you?" Risty asked playfully.

"No, of course not," Jeff answered. "You two have fun. I need to swing by my uncle's place anyway. He sent me an email last night saying that my bike's arrived, so I need to go pick that up."

"You got a bicycle?" Rogue asked.

"No, motorcycle, actually."

"Really," Risty said, leaning forward and placing her arms on the table. She smiled. "Do tell."

"You have a motorcycle?" Rogue repeated. "Your own motorcycle?"

"Well, it's a used one," Jeff said. "It used to be my father's. He said I could have it for my seventeenth birthday if I got my license in time. I got the motorcycle license over the summer, so I was just going to wait until next month. But my parents left it to me in their will anyway, so my uncle had a friend of his bring it up so I could use it now."

"Oh, your parents are dead?" Risty asked, a touch of sympathy in her voice.

"Yeah. That's why I came here. My uncle Sean lives here in Bayville."

"I can't get over this," Rogue said, her green eyes open wide. "You have a motorcycle. Your very own _motorcycle_."

"Well, mostly," Jeff admitted, feeling a little uncomfortable at her excitement. "Uncle Sean's paying for my insurance, and he's increasing my allowance to help pay for gas. My own job doesn't pay that much."

"What do you do?" Risty asked.

"Oh, I do a little web design on the side for some small businesses back home. Back in Virginia, I mean. I don't know how long they'll want me to do it now that I can't meet with them personally every so often, but I'm sure there are some places here in Bayville that will hire me later on. It's not much money, but it helps pay for my extravagant lifestyle."

"Hmm." Risty gave Jeff a mischievous look. "He gets in fights, he drives a motorcycle, and he gets the principal pissed off at him. I think you've fallen into bad company, my dear Rogue." She grinned. "I like him more and more."

"So glad for your approval, madam," Jeff replied, a touch of irony in his voice. He began to stand up. "If you'll excuse me, though, there's something I have to take care of."

Rogue looked confused. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Jeff answered. "I just see someone I have to have a few words with. I'll be back for my stuff." He grinned. "You two have some girl talk."

* * *

Rogue glared at Jeff as he retreated, but it was hard to keep it from slipping into a smile. Jeff just had that effect on her. She felt . . . _normal_ around him. 

"Careful, girlfriend," Risty said. "You're shedding a glow there."

"What?" Rogue blinked.

"You're mooning after motorcycle-man there, just like you've been doing with Summers."

"I am not," Rogue denied, but it was more automatic than anything else. It sounded forced even to her ears.

Risty just rolled her eyes. "You must have a thing for men who wear sunglasses indoors."

"Shut up."

"Oi, relax, sister. I'm not saying you shouldn't, y'know. I mean, he's cute, he's clever, he's smart, and on top of that has a motorcycle. If you don't go after him, I think I will."

"Risty!"

"Not that I'd get anywhere. He's obviously smitten with you."

Rogue looked away, running a hand through her hair. "You think so?"

"Think so? Come on, Rogue. The way he acts around you, I'm surprised he's not trying to sneak you off for snogging in the janitor's closet."

"Yeah, right. A girl like me?"

"Don't believe me? Well, ask him to the dance and find out."

Rogue felt herself blushing. "I, um. Already did."

"You did?" Risty looked surprised. "Well, good. I was afraid I'd have to force you or something. He said yes, right?"

"Yeah." Rogue couldn't help but smile.

"Then what are you all mopey over?" Risty reached out as if to smack her over the head. "Wake up and smell the coffee already. He likes you. Stop worrying."

"Yeah, I just don't know why he seems interested in me," Rogue replied.

"Maybe because you're a smoking-hot goth chick?"

Rogue snorted in disbelief. "Whatever."

"Oh, I admit it's not the usual thing for a guy like him to get interested in girls like us, but hey, stranger things have happened, right?" Risty shrugged and took a swig of her milk. "Just relax and go with the flow, luv."

* * *

Jeff couldn't help but smile as he left Rogue. Over the past year, his life had seemed to be going downhill, and he had felt like he had hit rock bottom after the car crash. Jeff had moved to a new city less than two weeks later, living with an uncle he hadn't seen in years. He had started at a new school after the year had already begun, forcing him to play catch-up. He had drifted through his first week almost as a shell of himself, barely speaking to anyone . . . until the following Monday. Just eight days ago, when he had intervened in a fight without knowing either person involved. 

Eight days ago, when Jeff had met a girl who made him forget his troubles whenever she was around.

Of course, accompanying that was a load of things that made his life even more complicated. Paranormal phenomena, secret societies, genetic mutation on a scale he'd never envisioned, a new definition of "race," -- _What's the ACLU going to make of_ that -- and a whole hidden shadow-conflict that threatened to explode into outright war.

That was the reason Jeff had left the table. He had spotted Lance through the sea of heads, and it had looked like the other teen was finished with his food. Now he saw Lance walking his tray up to the kitchen window. Jeff wanted to catch him outside the cafeteria to find out if the Brotherhood boy would be willing to talk. Jeff had to find out more about everything that was going on. He only had a few more days to figure things out.

_This sort of thing is supposed to only happen in movies or comic books, not real life_, Jeff thought to himself wryly._Of course, if this were a movie, then it would be someone like Jean or Kitty getting involved with a geek like me, not the Marilyn Manson fan wearing black makeup. Most likely Jean. She's the sort of person Hollywood would just eat up. _

Jeff quirked another smile at the thought as he passed by the table where Jean was sitting, a table full of what looked like sports players and cheerleaders. _Nope. It's real life. Loners and misfits like me and Rogue get together, while popular girls like Jean go after like Duncan Matthews. "Dumbkin," as Rogue said. Odd pair, though. You'd think that with Jean's telepathy, she'd see he how he bullies people. On the other hand, maybe her telepathy shows her something we don't? I suppose she _could_ just be blinded by his obvious good looks, but I'd actually prefer the other idea. _

As he thought that, the muscled blond team captain started laughing at some joke he'd just made, and the surrounding players and cheerleaders joined in. Jean's smile looked almost half-hearted._ Then again_, Jeff continued to think, _maybe their relationship is simply Jean doing what she's expected to do? She's a rich kid, like Matthews; she's popular, pretty . . . the only thing that keeps those two from being a living stereotype is that she's not blonde-haired like him._

A hand grabbed his arm from behind. "Hey there, Jeff!" said a familiar voice.

_Oh . . . blast. Speaking of blondes . . ._

Jeff turned to see, predictably, Tabitha Smith. He hadn't seen a whole lot of her in the past few days, but she irritated the heck out of him. She reminded Jeff of most of the self-absorbed girls from his last school, girls who typically made life as much of a living hell as they could for guys like him. Still, he told himself, he was probably over-reacting.

Tabitha linked her arm with his. "You know, you're just the handsome young man I wanted to see," she said breezily.

On the other hand, there was always the possibility he was _under-_reacting.

"See, I was thinking --"

"Sounds like something dangerous," Jeff replied, with a touch more sarcasm than he had originally intended to show. He wondered how he could shake her off without making a scene.

Tabitha laughed. "That's what I like about you, Jeff," she said. "You're always ready for anything. So anyway, I was thinking, since you're the new guy on the block, you ought to have someone show you a good time. Welcome you to Bayville properly and all. So I was thinking it'd be a really good idea if you came with me to the dance Saturday." Tabitha leaned into him. "I'm a _real_ party girl."

"Really. Well, I'm flattered," Jeff told her, attempting to slip out of her grip. _And I mean that, too,_ he thought. _In Dante's sense of "flattery," that is._ "But I've already said I'd go with someone else."

Tabitha didn't back off. "Oh, but that was before I asked you," she persisted, her face still smug. "Just tell her something's come up, and you can't go with her. She'll get the hint. Then you and I can have some _fun_." Tabitha jabbed him lightly with an elbow.

"That, uh . . ." Jeff was still trying to push her off. _Tabitha_ certainly didn't get a hint, that was for certain. "I'm not going to do that. I said I'd go, and I'll go. You're too late, okay?"

"Oh, come on, Jeff." Tabitha smiled up at him, eyes half-lidded. "I bet she's not nearly as pretty as me."

Surprised, Jeff stopped and looked down at the blond girl. _A few months ago, I'd have been so glad to get attention from a pretty girl, I'd probably have given in. But now . . ._

"You know," he said out loud, "you're right. She's nowhere near as pretty as you." Tabitha's expression turned triumphant. "In fact, she's a lot_more_ pretty than you are."

Tabitha looked honestly shocked. "You're not talking about _Rogue_, are you?" she snapped, obviously irritated. "She's a freakin'_drag queen_, for crying out loud!"

Jeff took advantage of her indignation, finally putting some force behind his struggle and breaking free of her hold. "Not only is she better looking even with the makeup," he told her firmly, "she's in a completely different class from you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have someplace to be."

"Fine!" Tabitha huffed. "You'll regret it, though! Rogue has no idea how to do anything but be angsty. Let me know when you want some _real_ fun."

Jeff ignored her as she stormed away, and started scanning for Lance again. He thought he saw the other boy leaving through the exit, and headed after him.

* * *

"I'm just . . . worried it'll all go wrong," Rogue confessed. "I've never been in a relationship before, and I'm worried it'll all go Charlie Foxtrot on me." 

"Charlie Foxtrot?" Risty repeated. "What's a Charlie Foxtrot?"

"It's something Jeff says. Some sort of military thing. Stands for the letters C-F. The F you can guess."

"Oh, like 'snafu.'" Risty grinned. She loved finding new swear words, especially ones she could flaunt in front of authorities who had never heard of them. "Well, don't worry about it. Just be yourself."

Rogue didn't answer. She knew what it seemed like, but she'd been so resigned to never being able to go through with any sort of relationship that to suddenly have one dropped in her lap was almost too good to believe. But she couldn't tell Risty that. Her friend didn't know about the whole mutant thing.

Risty propped her chin on one hand and looked across the table at Rogue. "Boy, you got bit by the love-bug bad, din'cha?"

Rogue scowled. "What d'you mean?"

"You're jumping at shadows all of a sudden. I know we've only known each other for a month or so, but I ain't seen you like this before." Risty leaned forward, a conspiratorial expression on her face. "So. Give me all the juicy details, luv."

"Like what?"

"Well, for starters, what makes him so different? Spill."

"Well . . ." Rogue stared at the tabletop. "He looks at me . . . different."

"Different how?"

"Like . . . I'm not . . . like I'm normal."

"Normal?" Risty scoffed. "'Normal' is blonde girls worrying about their wardrobe, hair style, and social calendar being a minute out of date. That isn't how he looks at you, girl."

"No . . . I meant . . ." Rogue picked at her shirt. "Like I'm not goth. Like I'm not anything but . . . a girl."

"Now we're gettin' somewhere." Risty grinned. "Now, how does he make _you_ feel?"

Rogue blushed, and hated herself for it. Why did she feel so giddy all the time now? "Like . . . like I'm warm. And safe. And . . . happy. Oh, great, now I sound like some little girl."

"Oh, don't worry, I don't think less of you," Risty assured her, though she didn't stop smirking. "Bloody hell, girl, you need to let down your walls every so often. And I guess this boy's perfect for you. Good thing you ain't still hung up on Summers."

"Will you let that drop?" Rogue growled.

Risty raised her hands in a placating gesture. "Alright, alright, don't get your knickers in a bunch. On to more important matters. You snogged him yet?"

"Risty!"

"Come on. Gory details on the table."

Rogue glared at her. "No. We haven't. He wants to take things slow."

Risty pressed a hand to her chest, assuming a shocked expression. "Well, by George, can it be? A boy actually wanting to take things slow?"

Rogue smiled slightly. "Yeah. He says he's the traditional sort."

"Flowers, candy, moonlight carriage rides?"

"I guess. He's taking me to dinner before the dance."

"Ooo. Did he say where?"

"No. I don't think he's decided."

"Not McDonald's, I hope?"

"I doubt it."

"What are you doing about the no-touching skin thing?"

Rogue hesitated. _Shoot. I forgot about the cover story_. Officially, Rogue had a skin condition that made her prone to break out in rashes if she touched someone. When she'd brought Rogue to the school, Mystique had worked up some kind of fake condition involving unbalanced skin oils or something for the school records. Xavier had kept up the fiction when Rogue had quit the Brotherhood and joined the X-Men.

"I'm going to wear gloves and stuff," Rogue answered after a moment. "And I'm going to take some medication," she added, making it up as she went. "I don't like the side effects, but it's worth it for a date."

_Great_, Rogue thought sourly._ Now I have to keep that up in public, too, or else people might wonder why I'm so casual about touching Jeff. I guess most people won't notice, but Risty would. I can use the medication excuse to cover any "accidents," but mostly it's going to be like fifty years ago when hand-holding wasn't allowed. _

_I shouldn't complain, though_, she told herself. _This time last week, I thought I'd never be able to touch someone ever again, much less in public. I gotta take what I can get . . ._

"Right, I guess that'll work," Risty was saying. "But now for the most important question of all."

"What's that?"

Risty leaned forward again, still grinning, and lowered her voice. "Does he have a brother?"

* * *

_Blast_, Jeff thought as he entered the hallway. _I don't see Lance. Where'd he go?_

"Hey!" he called to a short boy about twenty feet away, who looked like he was trying to get his locker open.

"What!?" the boy said, bolting upright and looking guilty. "I din' do nuthin'!"

"Have you seen Lance Alvers?" Jeff asked him.

"What ya lookin' fer Lance for, yo?" the kid asked. His accent sounded like a weird hybrid of Brooklyn and rap-star. "Ain't you that new X-Man?"

Jeff frowned, noticing for the first time the kid's slightly greenish skin and overly large eyes. "Are you a Brotherhood boy?"

"You got it," the boy said, his grin revealing large, yellowed teeth. He squatted briefly, then leapt up impossibly high. He landed on top of the bank of lockers. "They call me Toad, yo."

"Then you should get them to stop," Jeff said sarcastically. Privately he thought that it was a good fit, but _that_ was his choice? Toad?

"What? Ya don't like my name?" Toad leapt over Jeff's head, landing in the middle of the hall, then leapt to the top of the opposite line of lockers. "Like Maverick's so much betta." He began crawling down the lockers, somehow sticking to the surface like a bug.

"Maybe you'd better stop that before someone sees you," Jeff said, glancing up and down the hall.

"Wassamata, Mav? Jealous?" Toad flipped right over Jeff's head. "You have some crappy passive power, while the Toadmeister gets natural grace, style, and charisma. Mother Nature loves the Toadman!"

"Well, only a mother could," Jeff muttered.

Toad flipped back over Jeff again. Jeff reached up, trying to touch the younger mutant and affect him with his power, but Toad managed to wrap into a ball and evade him. Fortunately, this time, it overbalanced the smaller mutant, and instead of sticking to the lockers he slipped and fell. Two wallets fell out of his pocket as he did so.

"Aw, man!" Toad griped. "I think you broke my arm!"

"Sorry, I left my violin at home."

The little guy rubbed at his elbow. "I thought ya had ta touch mutants to do that!" he said accusingly.

"You just slipped and fell," Jeff retorted. "Don't blame me for everything." He reached down and picked up the two wallets. "I assume now that that wasn't _your_ locker you were trying to get into a moment ago."

"Hey! D'ose are mine!"

"Really?" Jeff flipped one open. "Huh. You look a lot prettier in your picture . . . Jessica."

"Uh . . . Okay, I found that one just lyin' on the floor."

"This one too?" Jeff asked, showing a New York driver's license made out to a black kid named Greg Freer. "He doesn't look like you either."

"Look, man, I can explain!"

"So can I. How many more do you have?"

"That's it, honest!"

Jeff squatted down to be at eye level with Toad, but did not say anything.

Toad stared into his own reflection in Jeff's glasses. He gulped. "Honest. I'm not a thief!"

Jeff still did not say a word.

"Wait, I just rememba'd," Toad said, smiling nervously. "I found this one earlier!" He fished another one out of his back pocket.

Jeff took it. "You've met Wolverine, haven't you?" he asked, his voice low and conversational.

"Y-yeah."

"I very much like his style."

Toad gulped again.

"If I catch you doing this again," Jeff continued, "you'll see just how good a student I am. Now go."

Toad scrambled up and began running away.

Jeff finally let himself grin. _Boy, scowling like that is hard_, he reflected. _I wonder how Logan does it. _

A moment later, though, he sighed and the grin slipped away. He'd have to try to find Lance some other time. He only had five minutes until his next class.

Jeff re-entered the lunch room, pausing to hand the three wallets to the teacher on monitor duty. "Found these lying around" was all he said before walking back to the table where Rogue and Risty were sitting. The monitor was too stunned to stop him.

_I can't turn him in because he's a mutant_, Jeff thought, irritated with the whole situation. _It's too big a risk. So he gets away with it. _

_On top of that, so far, the "Brotherhood" is looking to be a lot further from the angels than the X-Men are. Lance is still a possibility, but he's hanging out with a petty thief and one of the biggest racists I've ever met. I wonder if the fourth member is any different -- that big fat guy, Fred Dukes. Maybe I can talk to him, too._

_I'm sure there are problems with some of the X-Men, of course. They're all from very different backgrounds. But I can't help but feel like there's a real good guy/bad guy thing going on here, whatever my impression of Lance._

_Besides, like Kitty suggested yesterday, it's not like I don't have incentive to join the X-Men permanently._

"Did you find the person you were looking for?" Rogue asked as he sat back down. She looked oddly relieved at his return, and Jeff wondered what the two girls had been discussing.

"No," he answered. "I got delayed by Tabitha."

Rogue scowled at the blonde girl's name. "What did _she_ want?"

Jeff hesitated a moment, then gave a mental shrug. "She tried asking me to the dance. I had to make certain she understood I had other plans already."

Irritation and pleasure warred with one another on Rogue's face. It was highly amusing, Jeff thought. Her eyes stayed green, though, and eventually she smirked. "What did you tell her, exactly?"

"Now, I can't do that," Jeff replied, his voice dripping with innocence. "You'd get a swelled head."

Risty grinned, as the bell rang for the start of the next period. "So, Jeff," she said, glancing at Rogue, "do you, by any chance, have some close cousins?"

"Risty!" Rogue looked like she wanted to hit her.

"What?" Risty said innocently. "I'm just curious."

* * *

"Aw, man, ain't there any ice?" Toad complained. His head was practically inside the open freezer, while his bare feet were sticking to the refrigerator door. "I gotta put somethin' on my arm. It ain't stopped hurtin' since that Maverick guy attacked me." 

"Keep looking," Lance said sarcastically, grabbing a nearly-frozen beer from the door. "I'm sure you can at least find some cheese to go with your whine."

"Hurry up, Todd!" said Fred Dukes, poking his plump face inside the kitchen. "I'm hungry!"

"You're always hungry, Blob," Lance said, squeezing by him. "You could stand to wait a few minutes."

"I'm a growing boy," Fred protested. "I need to keep up my strength." He stepped into the kitchen, ducking his head to make it through the door. The floor creaked under his weight. "Okay, Todd," the boy known as the Blob announced. He picked up Todd Tolansky with one hand and literally tossed him out of the kitchen. "It's my turn to get stuff."

"Why's everybody pickin' on me today?" Toad grumbled, clutching his arm again as he struggled to his feet.

"Well, gee, I don't know," Lance said, taking a swig of his beer. "Maybe because you're a thief, a liar, a drama queen, and -- oh yeah -- you stink like a garbage pit."

"Hey, c'mon, I took a shower just last week. What more do ya want?"

"Basic hygiene?"

Fred ambled his way back into the living room. "Who's this Maverick guy, anyway?" he asked around a mouthful of the sandwich he was holding.

"Ah, so the name finally gets through to that slow but amazingly powerful brain of yours," Pietro noted. The white-haired teen was draped over an easy chair that, though noticeably less filthy than the rest of the room, still looked like its better days lay sometime during the eighties.

"Maverick, also known as Jeff McGovern," he continued in his fast-paced manner, "is the latest addition to the cadre of mutant geeks known as the X-Men. Moreover, he's making it his business to be the local sheriff, poking his nose where it doesn't belong. One of these days someone will show him why it's a bad idea."

"Hey, maybe we should!" Toad said, dropping to a squat. His long tongue snapped out to catch a fly buzzing through the air five feet away. "He's just one guy," he added, after swallowing his snack. "We could show him da error of his ways an' all."

Lance shook his head. "No way. Fight one X-Man, you fight them all. Or did you forget all of those times they kicked us from here to Sunday?"

"So we catch 'im alone," Toad protested.

"He took out five sports players without a sweat last week," Pietro pointed out, looking at the ceiling. "Of course, they were all _homo inferiors_ . . ."

"Hah!" Fred took a savage bite of his sandwich. "Uh'd laik t' see h'm trah yat wid me!"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, food-for-brains," Lance snapped. "Look, there's no reason to take him on, even if he weren't an X-Man. What's he done?"

"He dang near broke my arm in two!" Toad cried. "Plus, he took the cash I rightfully stole."

"And he _did_ attack me," Pietro added, as if he were thinking out loud. "Maybe he's trying to come at each of us in turn. You know, divide and conquer."

Fred waved his sandwich-laden hand in the air, showering the room with crumbs. "Not if we get him first!"

Lance threw one hand up in disgust, his other still holding his bottle. "Look, you guys want to do this, leave me out of it. Go commit suicide without me. I just want to finish my beer."

"Fine by us," Pietro said easily. "Go away and hide. We'll be sure to tell Kitty you weren't involved at all!"

Lance's only answer was to slam his door behind him.

"Jeez, he's so focused on a girl he can't think straight," Pietro said, shaking his head in mock sorrow. Then, in the blink of an eye, he leapt up, raced over between Fred and Todd, and put his arms around their shoulders. Considering their relative heights, it was an awkward pose, but Pietro stuck with it.

"Well, gentlemen," he said, "it looks like it's up to us to take care of Maverick. Willing to give it a try?"

An hour later, Pietro was at a phone booth, dialing the number for a voice-mail account. Officially, it was registered to a dentist. No dentist ever checked it.

"Hi, Dad. Just wanted to let you know we're on for the Maverick thing. Lance didn't want in, like I said, but I managed to get the other two to jump through the hoops. I'll call again when we get a time and place."

_To Be Continued . . ._

* * *

**Author's Note:**

The book _Honor: A History_ is a real book, and quite interesting to anyone who wants an analysis of the subject of honor in history and today, as well as a look at how it affects relations in the Middle East. I'd also recomend J. Rufus Fears audio lectures (available from The Teaching Company) _The History of Freedom_ and _The Wisdom of History _for similar material. Both of those may or may not make an appearance in the story at a later date.

Jeff's motorcycle, like the multiweapon, started out as an "oh, that might be cool" idea that grew on its own to become more than just a passing thing.

If you REALLY want to know what Charlie Foxtrot and SNAFU stand for, they're euphemisims for "This isn't quite going according to plan." (Appologies to Howard Tayler for that definition.) If you want more, you can look it up yourself. Unless, of course, your browser's parental controls are locked on the "no swearing, young man, now go wash your mouth out" setting.

Hopefully you all like my portrayal of the Brotherhood. I think I made Pietro a lot more calculating than he is in the show, but I also wanted to reflect how much he's his daddy's boy. They're both natrual tacticians, with their main flaw being impatience -- and laziness, for Pietro.

A final note. Having noticed after going on hiatus that we can set up forums for discussion on multiple topics, I've decided to set up one for you all to use. I've been getting a lot of the same questions from different people, both on the story and other things, and they tend to be rather involved (at least with my verbose nature). I don't typically have time to write out replies to everyone, and making public replies in the usual manner of most authors takes up a tad too much room. So I'll give this a try. It's called Maverick and More, so drop by.

The next update will be sometime next month. You're all still welcome to send me emails, but if I haven't replied to anything in the last few months, please send it again or post it on the forum, because I've probably lost it in the depths of my accumulated junk mail. Thanks!


	8. Issue 8: Shadow Dance: An Enemy Returns

You're all going to hate me for this.

See, I have term papers to write, so I have no idea when I can continue writing fiction. And, after the end of this installment, you will all be clamoring for more. I just know it.

It gives me the warm fuzzies. I'm sadistic that way.

A few points of business first, though. To start with, I'd like to remind everyone about the discussion board. I still want reviews, and you can ask questions in the reviews, but I'll probably answer them on the discussion board. One such answer is already over there, regarding my portrayal of Tabitha in #7.

Blade Master: I do remember you, and your request. I don't know for certain that I'll be able to fit it into the main story. I am hoping to write some spin-off short stories using minor characters, and I might be able to do it there. I'd like to see Jaime when he's out and about, getting used to controlling his power in public; I'd also like to see the Fire Twins more, since I went and actually created them. And I'd also like to have some stuff with another character coming in a few installments; she's mostly OC and shares a past with Jeff, and she might be able to serve as the vehicle for what you wanted to see. We'll have to see, though. I do like the request, and I wish I could fit it in more easily.

(Everyone is welcome to make requests, of course. I might not be able to fit them in, but you never know when something might catch my attention! Who knows, maybe your idea will spark a writing frenzy on my part, and I'll churn out twenty pages overnight. I can only hope.)

And thanks again to all of you who sent me well-wishes regarding my health problems. :)

Keep the reviews coming!

* * *

X-Men: Evolution

_Maverick_ #8:

Shadow Dance, Part 2

_An Enemy Returns_

by

Bookwyrm

Sorry. Didn't Know You Were Spying There.

* * *

"Well, I believe that almost does it for this meeting," Xavier said, looking at the three other adults in the room. They were meeting in Xavier's study for their weekly faculty meeting; normally it took place on Mondays, but due to Storm's sudden trip, this week's meeting had been delayed by a day.

"There is, however, one point of business I felt we should discuss with Ororo present," Xavier continued. "It concerns our latest recruit. I am interested in your impressions of him."

Logan grunted. "Well, he's not much of a team player, that's certain." The Canadian turned away from the window, his arms folded.

Xavier smiled slightly. "I'm curious; coming from you, is that a compliment?"

Logan chuckled. "He's used to doing things his own way," he continued, not answering the question. "He also over-thinks things too much. He takes a little too much time in almost everything he does.

"The bright side, though, is he knows that it's a problem for him. He's not against working in a team. He just hasn't done it before. He's got a good sense of authority, too, which will help. He can take orders, as long as they're smart. If he doesn't think they are, though . . ." Logan shrugged. "He's used to being the smartest kid in the room. It'll take him some time to learn to play with others."

Manipulating his chair's controls, Xavier wheeled out from behind his desk. "Would he be good for the team?" he asked.

Logan sighed and looked out the window again. "His power's useful, no doubt about that. If we needed to stop a mutant, we'd just have to get him close enough and any energy-based mutation would be useless. He's immune to telepathy, too, and if anyone else develops a mutant detector like Cerebro, he'd be invisible.

"I think with training he could be up on a level with the upperclassmen," he continued. "So you could send him on missions. He's a lot more focused than almost any of the underclassmen, and he's already had good martial arts training. He's better at hand-to-hand than any of the other kids, not counting power advantages." Logan smiled at that. "Not_much_ better, of course. And now that Rogue has someone she doesn't have to worry about her power with, she'll be giving him a real challenge."

Xavier looked over to his other two instructors. "Ororo? Hank?"

The elegant African woman known as Storm gave a slight shrug. "I have not had much time to get to know him," she said. "I did review the Danger Room recordings, though, and my conversation with him at dinner was quite illuminating. I agree with Logan regarding his focus; unlike most young mutants, he seems quite in control of himself. If nothing else, I think he might be a good example for the younger students."

Hank McCoy was sitting on the floor, as he often did. Most furniture made for normal humans was now highly uncomfortable for his mutated body. Some newly-designed pieces were on order for him, but for now he preferred the floor to the chairs in Xavier's office. "Jeff's smart," he said, using a name for the first time in the conversation. "I don't think he realizes how smart. He's also dedicated. If he tries something, he sticks with it. Unlike most kids his age, he doesn't have much of a problem with 'goofing off.' Of course, his need for less sleep than the rest of us helps with that; he still has time to play computer games and watch TV like a normal kid."

"Do either of you have any problems with him?" Xavier asked.

Ororo crossed her legs and leaned back. "Again, I have not had much time to form my impression of him, certainly not to that degree. I cannot think of anything."

Hank shrugged his massive shoulders. "Like Logan, I think he's really weak on teamwork, but he's willing to change. I don't think there's a problem." He smiled. "Especially if he's paired with Rogue. That'll be incentive right there."

"What is your opinion, Professor?" Ororo asked.

Xavier looked thoughtful. "I have to confess to some uneasiness around him, though as far as I can tell it stems simply from being unable to detect his mind. I certainly have no reason for feeling that way. My brief sojourn in his thoughts brought up nothing obvious. He is not naturally duplicitous, and is unlikely to go along with anything he disagrees with.

"Speaking purely as to the advantage he would give us, he is valuable. I have been monitoring him as much as I can, though of course Cerebro cannot lock on to him. I feel that with his help, we can begin to understand mutation better than we have so far. The more we understand before we become public knowledge, the better our position will be.

"My only real concern has been adding a new student so soon, before our latest recruits have had time to mesh. I had originally decided not to attempt to enter any more, except in case of emergency."

"Like Jaime," Hank supplied, smiling. He'd only met the youngest member of the Institute after he had joined himself, as Jaime Maddox, or "Multiple," was so far confined to the school grounds. Jaime's power was to create energy-based clones of himself, and this ability unfortunately tended to activate whenever he sustained a kinetic shock -- even one so minor as to be elbowed in the ribs.

"Huh. Hadn't considered Jaime," Logan said, rubbing his unshaven chin. "McGovern could train with clone-boy to beef up his fighting skills. No one else can do it right now, since he keeps creating a half-dozen of himself every time he tries punching someone."

"You always think of fighting," Ororo said, looking uncomfortable. She wasn't pacific by nature, but she often clashed with Logan on a personal level due to the way she had to cultivate her own control.

"Yes, like Jaime," Xavier noted, heading off any possible confrontation. "Or like the student arriving from Ireland next week."

"The banshee-mutant?" Hank asked, looking interested. "I was wondering what was going on with that case. You didn't mention it today. Has Dr. McTaggart had a chance to make an examination?"

"If she has, she hasn't contacted me about it," Xavier said. "Regardless, to finish this piece of business . . ."

"There ain't a real problem with the kid that I can tell," Logan said, cutting him off. "Nothing that can't be fixed with some training, like I said. And I think he'd be of use here."

"Very well, then." Xavier nodded. "The final decision is his, of course, but if he chooses to join, we will let him stay."

"I think he'll be a good influence," Hank said. "He seems a lot more in control of himself than most children his age."

* * *

Suppressing a yell, Jeff angrily kicked a loose soda can across the Institute garage.

"Fracking cheats," Jeff muttered, his fists clenched. "It was in that condition my fracking--"

"Problem, Jeff?"

Startled, Jeff looked up to see Forge's face looking out of the open doorway into the mansion.

"Sorry," he muttered after a moment. He forced himself to relax, and pointed at a black motorcycle parked next to Scott's red convertible. "I just got my dad's old bike delivered, and it's not working right."

"Yeah, I heard the noise from the house," Forge answered, walking over to the motorcycle. "I figure you've at least got a busted muffler . . . woah." He blinked as he saw the dent in the side.

"Yeah." Jeff crossed his arms. "Apparently the guys storing this for us said it had been like that when my dad dropped it off. It was hauled up here by one of my uncle's friends, and he thought they were telling the truth so he signed the paperwork and I don't know how to get his sort of thing fixed."

"It's a neat bike," Forge said, looking it over. "Not a Harley-Davidson, but it looks nice and fast. A lot more aerodynamic than they made back in my day."

"Yeah, it _was_ nice." Jeff kicked the workbench next to him. "It's a Ninja. My dad picked it up used a while back off a police auction. Used to belong to a cat burglar or something. After a few years, though, he put it in storage because he wasn't using it enough to justify the insurance payments. But he'd promised it to me for my birthday, and his will stated that the title goes to me by then. My uncle gave it to me early. But he can't afford to get this sort of thing fixed, and I certainly can't, and from the sound of it the thing won't be running much longer." He gave the table another savage kick.

"Hey, chill, dude," Forge said, looking up at him.

"That bike is like a piece of my father!" Jeff snapped. "It's the last thing he ever gave me. Now it looks like I have to scrap it. I don't need you telling me to _chill_."

Forge straightened up and took a step closer. "Yes, you do, kid. Act your age, already."

"Why are you calling _me_ a kid?" Jeff scowled. "You look like you're younger than I am by two years!"

"What can I say, I'm well-preserved." Forge narrowed his eyes. "I happen to be fifty-six, if you don't remember."

"Oh, you're counting all that time you were asleep?"

"I wasn't _asleep_. I was awake the whole time. Thirty years. So yeah, I'll call you 'kid' if I want to. I've earned it."

Jeff was taken aback. "Wait. You were aware of everything?"

"Yeah. I could even see part of what was going on out in the school." Forge quirked a smile. "Unfortunately, my range stopped just short of the girls' locker room, but I could see just about everything else in the life of a typical high school student for the last thirty years." The smile disappeared. "And one thing I got _real_ sick of was teen temper-tantrums, so drop it or I won't fix your bike. Got it?"

Jeff gritted his teeth. Forge was right. "Sorry," he muttered, trying to relax his muscles. He started to run himself through a breathing exercise, but then Forge's words caught up with him. "Wait. You can fix it?"

"Yeah, I think so. It's why I came out here." Forge turned away to look at the bike again. "I thought I might be able to help, and I've been bored out of my mind while my experiment's compiling data. From the looks of it, I think I've got just the thing for your engine. It'll take some extensive modifications, though."

"How extensive?"

"I might have to replace about half the engine. But don't worry, I'm doing it gratis." Forge looked up at him again. "If, that is, you promise not to fly off the handle again."

"Right." Jeff looked away. "Yeah, sorry. Sure, do whatever you want to it. It's scrap now." He grimaced, realizing he sounded almost whiney.

"Great." Forge held out his right arm from his body. His forearm and hand began to ripple and stretch, expanding into a metallic cylinder with various tools sticking out of it.

Jeff took a step back. "What the heck?"

"Oh, sorry," Forge said, looking at his arm. "I forgot you didn't know. My prosthetic arm is also my toolkit. It's handy, if you'll excuse the pun." One of the little arms at the front of the cylinder stretched forward, and the drill bit on the end began unscrewing the motorcycle's engine casing. "It was when I was trying to figure out how I did this that I came across the memory-plastic I showed you guys yesterday. This is more like memory-aluminum, if you will. I'm trying to see if I can replace the metal bits with the memory-plastic. This arm weighs a ton right now. I'm just worried it'll destroy the fake skin in the process. It's murder matching skin tones. I really wish I could get a 'flash' on making fake skin that will tan like the real thing."

"Oh." Jeff hadn't really considered the idea of that memory-plastic material being used for prosthetics. It suggested interesting possibilities. "Still, even if it's heavy, it's pretty shiny."

"Frankly, I'd give it up to have my real arm back," Forge answered, taking the cover plate off. "This thing lacks proper nerve receptors. I wasn't able to make those back in the seventies. Basically it's just a series of pressure-sensors. I can work with it pretty well, but it still feels funny not feeling heat or cold." He scratched his chin with his natural hand, looking at the engine. "Huh, this whole assembly looks busted. I'm not sure how you got the bike here in the first place."

"I was trying not to push it." Jeff leaned down to look at the engine himself. "Guess that was a good thing. Anyway, out of curiosity, what experiment are you running right now?"

"Oh, it's this thing for Nightcrawler. I'm hoping to gain some more information about the way his power works, so that I can extend the range. If this runs the way I think it will, I might be able to increase his power by at least two orders of magnitude. Maybe even enough to hit China."

"Now, that would certainly save on gas money," Jeff said appreciatively.

"Yeah. Those guys at the think-tank I've been working with think they know where he teleports to in order to get someplace else in this world. They've calling it the N-Zone. I took a look at their data and started getting one of my flashes, so they loaned me some equipment to work with to see if they're right."

"Kitty was telling me they'd tried some experiments with it, but had to stop."

"Yeah, that was because Xavier's equations were wrong. The people over at the think-tank managed to get a lot further, but when they tried artificial teleporting, there was . . . well, an accident. With some really freaky side-effects."

"Like what?"

"Can't tell you. Classified and all that." Forge grinned as he removed the belt assembly. "Still, they're hoping that since Nightcrawler's been teleporting for years with no apparent side-effects, he might hold the key to figuring out what went wrong."

"Sounds interesting."

"Yeah, man. We're doing the experiment in the morning. Right now, the equipment's compiling data on local conditions so that the readings will work right. It can't scan into the N-Zone from here -- that takes a machine way bigger than Cerebro, I'll tell you that! -- but it's doing everything short of that."

Forge craned his neck to get a better look at the inside of the engine. "Hoo-boy. Yeah, you've got at least two cylinders cracked. The whole engine needs to be replaced anyway." He stood up, his prosthetic arm reverting back to its appearance of normality. "Well, that's that."

"So you can't fix it, then?" Jeff asked, disappointed.

Forge laughed. "I didn't say that, Mav! Nope, I think I can get this fixed up for you by tomorrow. I think I might even be able to get rid of the dent in the side. Most of it, anyway. It probably won't be the smoothest fix, but it'll be looking a lot better."

Jeff smiled. "Thanks. Thanks a lot."

"Don't mention it, dude," Forge said, slapping him on the shoulder. "Just hang tight, and it should be ready for you to take to school in the morning."

"Right." Jeff turned to go. "I'll leave you to it, then."

He paused at the door. "Um, Forge?"

"Yeah?"

"Sorry about before. You were right."

"Like I said, don't mention it." Forge smiled again. "Tell you what. Don't rag on me about the way I talk, and I won't call you 'kid' again. Fair?"

Jeff grinned back. "Fair."

* * *

Jeff stopped by his room long enough to grab his copy of _Mindhunter_ before heading over to the south wing, where the girls' dorms were. When he reached Rogue's door, he knocked. No answer.

_Must still be at that movie with Risty_, Jeff thought. He had figured she would be back by now, but the two girls were probably sitting in the food court at the mall waiting for the next bus, discussing the finer points of the use of blood-spatter in horror movies. _I guess I'll just leave the book on her bed._

With another knock for good measure -- there was always the possibility that Kitty was taking a nap, of course -- Jeff opened the door and walked in.

"What do you want?" came a very irritated, and familiar, Southern-accented voice.

Jeff stopped, surprised to see Rogue standing by her desk. "Sorry . . . there wasn't an answer when I knocked, so . . ."

"So you figured you'd just come right in, huh? You always enter girls' rooms when they don't answer?"

"Well, no . . ." Jeff flushed, embarrassed. He held up his book, feeling more than a little lame. "I just came by to drop this off. You said you wanted to read it at lunch, remember?"

"Yeah, right, thanks," Rogue said, dismissive. She didn't look at him, seeming more interested in staring at the Cruxshadows poster over her desk. "Just put it on my dresser there."

"Okay." Jeff did as she asked, entering the room to place the book on her dresser. He kept his attention on Rogue, however. "You okay, Rogue?"

"Dandy. I just wanted to be alone, that's all."

"Something go wrong with Risty at the theater?" Jeff asked. He stepped closer.

"Nothing," Rogue answered. Her eyes were a steady steel-grey, which told Jeff she was upset about something. "I just wanted some alone-time, okay?" She started to walk by him. "I guess I'll have to go to the Danger Room for that or something."

Jeff reached out to touch her arm. "Look, if you want to talk, I'm --"

"Careful!" Rogue said, shying away. "You know what happens if you touch me."

For a moment, Jeff was speechless, not comprehending what Rogue was saying. But then it clicked. His eyes narrowed, and abruptly he reached out to grab Rogue again.

The moment Jeff touched Rogue's sleeve, the girl started changing. Her form rippled and stretched, becoming more than a foot taller. Her hair became red, and her skin turned blue. Her clothing shrank into a black leather outfit that bared long, muscular legs and arms. The most striking change, however, was actually in her eyes, which became pale gold and slitted like a cat's.

For a moment, the two stared at each other. Jeff recovered first. "Thought so. Mystique, I presume?"

The tall woman -- she had to be no less than six and a half feet tall -- looked down at him, regaining her composure. "You've heard of me, then," she said. Her voice had changed as well, becoming much more throaty. "Xavier must be moving quickly with you. I suppose that with that ability of yours he would. And, I have to admit, you're very perceptive. Not many can see through my disguises. Might I ask what gave me away?"

Jeff frowned. _A hunch,_ he thought._ Sometimes I hate being right._ "Let's just say it was something about the way you looked at me."

Mystique tilted her head. "Oh, of course. Her color-changing eyes. I was used to hers being an almost constant grey, but around you they're usually green, aren't they?"

"Yeah. Plus there was your little slip-up about touching."

"Yes. I had been wondering what your mutant gift was. A personal field that counters other powers, I assume?"

Jeff frowned. "Yes."

"Yes, I thought so. I felt it become more difficult to hold Marie's form when close to you. Xavier would obviously want you in the front ranks of his little army."

Jeff figured she was just trying to get a rise out of him. "He did say something like that," he said, slowly walking to the door, still cracked open from when he had entered. He shut it, keeping an eye on her as he did so. "And I suppose you saw I was new in town and wanted to find out what I was adding to the X-Men."

"Yes." Mystique looked at him intently, possibly wondering what exactly he was doing. "Marie keeps a diary. I thought it might have something about you in it. You came in before I could find it, however."

"You could have just asked, you know."

"Would you have told me?"

"Probably not, no." Jeff turned to face the other mutant again, crossing his arms and leaning against the door. "But it's the polite thing to do, after all."

"Polite or not, I couldn't risk exposing myself by speaking to you. I don't know exactly what lies you have been fed here at the Institute. No point concealing myself from you now, of course."

"Going to Plan B, then?"

"Hardly." Mystique sat down on Rogue's bed, crossing her legs. "I'd always intended to speak to you if I thought it would help. 'Plan B' would be to treat you as an enemy. This is 'Plan A'; you just removed the choice. For now, that is."

"I suppose this puts you at more risk. I could tell the X-Men you're still alive."

"The thought did cross my mind, yes."

"And all I have to do to raise the alarm is one simple yell."

"Do you enjoy stating the obvious?"

"Not that much, no. Just pointing out that I haven't raised that alarm yet." Jeff motioned with one hand for her to continue. "I'm listening. What have the X-Men been lying about?"

"Thank you," Mystique said, smiling slightly. "But don't misunderstand me, Mr. McGovern. Not all the X-Men are deceivers. They honestly believe in what Xavier teaches. It is Xavier and his closest allies -- they are the liars."

"Really? So if they don't want peace, then what's their plan?"

Mystique shrugged. "We don't know. But it is fairly obvious that they are preparing for war and a long-term struggle. Have you entered Xavier's 'Danger Room'? Have you seen his training sessions?"

"Train the body, train the mind."

Mystique frowned. "Is that what they told you?"

"No, that's what my karate sensei told me. Once your body is trained, you become more disciplined in all things. It's nothing warlike -- the Bible says something similar. One of St. Paul's letters, if I remember correctly."

"But these training sessions are not simply martial arts classes. They are very much full battle training."

"Yeah, they admit that. I thought it was going a little overboard as well, but I figure it takes a little more to train someone with powers than it does a normal human. I don't deny that they look very much like a paramilitary group, but I haven't seen any grand evil design."

"Oh, I never said Xavier was evil. I know he truly believes he is in the right."

"Well, no one actually calls themselves evil, no. I'm talking philosophical concept of evil; it doesn't pay much attention to a person's intent. Even there, though, I haven't seen any grand Machiavellian plan."

"You have only been with them for a matter of days. I have been involved in this struggle my whole life. Xavier isn't about to confide his plans in anyone he does not trust completely. However, pay attention to what he accuses me and Magneto of. Much of it is false, but we suspect a good deal of it to be drawn from what he himself believes necessary, if distasteful."

"So you're saying you're pure as the driven snow?"

"Hardly. We all have our dark sides, and I'll admit I'm darker than many. I've seen and experienced too much at the hands of humanity to be an angel, but that doesn't mean that I am what Xavier paints me as. Magneto and I simply seek for mutant independence, to be recognized as simply the next stage in evolution, not to be feared but embraced."

Jeff raised an eyebrow. "And so, while principal of Bayville High, you bring in your Brotherhood boys? I've run into three of them already. They don't seem to be the poster boys of mutant innocence."

"Yes, I admit that. It is unfortunate, but I have never had the resources of the Xavier Institute, even when I did not have to stay under cover. Xavier has combined his telepathy with a powerful computer to create a mutant detector that can scan any spot on the planet. It can only scan a small portion at a time, and can only detect mutants while they use their powers, but it allows him to find and recruit mutants faster than Magneto or I can reach them. I once attempted to steal the Cerebro machine to help even the playing field, though for best use it requires a telepath." Mystique looked away, frowning. "However, that merely resulted in the computer's destruction, and Xavier had been in the process of upgrading Cerebro regardless of my interference. The entire plan hardly set him back at all, and was a waste of my own precious resources.

"I had to be content with those I could find on my own, whatever prejudices they might have had. I gathered them here in this city to act as a foil for Xavier's group, hoping that they might at least delay the X-Men agenda. However, I was forced into hiding before I could finish their training."

Jeff shrugged. "So why not continue their training in secret? You're a shapeshifter, after all. You can keep hiding. Pretend to be a student at the high school, perhaps."

Jeff wasn't sure exactly what he saw, but something flickered over Mystique's face at the suggestion. Her pale-gold eyes wavered ever so slightly, and Jeff was struck by the thought he hand seen those eyes before. Ridiculous, of course; he would have remembered cat-slit eyes.

Whatever it was, it was gone in a moment. Mystique shook her head. "No. Unfortunately, that would be impossible. Do you forget Xavier's power? I assure you, he examines their thoughts periodically. I had to be careful with what I taught them in the first place; now I have become more valuable hidden, and I cannot afford to teach them what they need to know. I can shield my mind from Xavier's detection, but that is a rare ability." She looked at him intently. "One which I assume you have naturally."

Jeff fought another frown. "Yes, I do," he admitted.

Mystique nodded. "I suspected so. The raw strength of my ability is at least on par with Xavier's, so I doubt he could penetrate your power without Cerebro."

_I wonder if that's really true, or if she's just that arrogant?_Aloud, he said, "So I suppose you don't want me to tell anyone that you're alive."

"Of course not. I can't force you, of course; even if you did not have your power, I am not Xavier. I cannot rewrite your memories even if I wanted to. I have to trust you."

"You don't seem very concerned about that."

"The damage has been done, Mr. McGovern. You've seen me. Simply escaping as soon as I could would not have helped at all, and this way I can hope to convince you to keep my secret -- or at least wait until you are certain you know who to trust." Mystique raised an eyebrow. "Besides, with your power, I can conceivably trust you with more than I could any of the Brotherhood boys."

"This is where you tell me I could be come your trusted lieutenant, right?"

"Hardly. But I won't deny you would be useful, even if it would just be for your power. However, your powers are not everything. You obviously have a good head on your shoulders, which I admit is another thing my boys lack. And, of course, trust is required. I'm not about to offer you anything you haven't earned."

"Okay." Jeff had to admit she was good. Absently, he walked across the room to stand by Rogue's dresser again. "What do you want me to do, then?" he asked.

Mystique spread her hands. "Just what you feel is necessary. What I _hope_ you will do, of course, is keep my secret. I hope you will understand how necessary it is to stop Xavier. And, of course, I hope you'll help me. It has to be your own choice, though."

_Very_good. She was pretty much the opposite of what Jeff had been expecting. At least some of it was an act, he was sure, but that didn't mean it wasn't true. Of course, truth could be used to make the biggest lies. "How exactly would you want me to help you?"

"Well, you are an X-Man now," Mystique pointed out.

"Double agent, in other words? But you're a shapeshifter, and you can shield your mind. Why not do it yourself?"

"First, I can't affect anything the X-Men do from within without impersonating a member, and luck can only be pushed so far. But even were I to content myself with spying in the form of some animal, which of course cannot make its way everywhere, the one thing I cannot change is my scent. The Wolverine would find me quickly. Due to my power, I don't actually leave much of a scent-trail, but were I to spend considerable time on these grounds Xavier's lieutenant would surely find me."

"Okay. But I don't even know if I'm going to become an X-Man. This is on a trial basis. I'm suppose to decide at the end of the week."

"Then I'll extend you the same offer. Simply sit and wait. Observe, and decide for yourself. I think you'll see what I mean."

Jeff hesitated, but then nodded. "Okay. I can do that."

"Thank you, Jeff." The blue-skinned mutant rose and walked towards the open window. "I will be in touch. I hope you'll do the right thing."

Mystique paused and looked back at him. Her expression changed, losing some of its previous hardness. "And, by the way . . . for what it's worth, I approve of you and Marie."

Jeff was taken aback. "Why do you care?" he asked after a moment.

"Marie is . . . she's like a daughter to me," Mystique replied, appearing hesitant. She looked up at Rogue's posters. "We had a falling-out due to a simple misunderstanding, but that doesn't change my feelings where she is concerned. As for you, you can touch her. You can give her what she needs. Even more than that, however, is that you obviously care for her." She looked back at Jeff. "So . . . I approve. That might not be worth much, but you still have it."

Mystique turned back to the window, and her form once again rippled, this time shrinking into the tiny form of a black cat. The cat leapt onto the window sill, gave Jeff a last look, and then jumped down the other side.

Jeff stood where he was, not knowing what to think. His gut feeling was that Xavier was in the right, but Mystique had made some undeniably good points.

On the other hand, Mystique had also been a bit _too _smooth with her answers. Just a bit too perfect. Like she was profiling him as the conversation went on, in a Jack Douglas fashion. His eyes fell on the book on Rogue's dresser, and his mouth quirked in a smile at the irony of that thought.

He noticed a few sheets of paper stapled together, sitting on the dresser next to his book._Oh, now there's an even greater irony_, Jeff thought, as he looked at the paper he had typed up for Rogue the week previous, already graded and handed back to its owner. He picked it up and turned to the third page, where his eyes fell on the Shakespeare quote Rogue had accidentally attributed to the play_MacBeth_. It was from the part of the play where Prince Hamlet was trying to decide whether or not he should believe the ghost that had appeared before him earlier.

_The spirit I have seen may be the devil, and the devil hath the power to assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps out of my weakness and my melancholy, as he is very potent with such spirits, abuses me to damn me._

Of course, young prince Hamlet quickly became convinced of the truth of all of the ghost's words by a simple coincidence. That was where the true tragedy of Hamlet lay -- in that he believed a spirit and became a murderer while thinking he fought on the side of angels. The spirit had carefully dangled the pure truth in front of the prince, but shaded in a different light. Truth always made the perfect basis for a lie.

But the question remained . . . who was lying?

_Funny,_ Jeff thought. _I never really thought to look at it from Hamlet's point of view. No wonder he went crazy._

His eyes fell on another book, which had been under the paper. Its cover was black with Gothic-style lettering. From the look of it, it had to be the diary Mystique had referred to. Jeff hadn't known Rogue kept one; she didn't seem the type.

He wondered what secrets were in there. Clues about the Institute. What really happened between her and Mystique. Information he could use to make sense of things. And -- especially in light of Mystique's parting comment -- he wondered just what was in there about _him_.

Carefully, Jeff placed the English paper back over the black book.

As he left the room, Rogue turned the corner and saw him. "Hi, Jeff," she said, smiling. Her eyes were green. "What were you doing?"

"Oh, just dropping off that book you wanted," Jeff replied, smiling back. He opened the door again for her. "You weren't around, so I just left it on your dresser."

"Oh, thanks." Rogue went into her room. "Did you get your bike okay?"

"Well, I've got the bike, but it needs some fixing," Jeff answered. He suppressed a sigh of relief as she brushed by him without hesitating. "Forge said he'd take care of it. Did you like the movie?"

"Oh, it was good," she said, dropping herself down on her bed. "Blood, gore, betrayal, creepy ending. That sort of thing."

"Sounds like fun," Jeff said. _Sounds familiar_, he thought to himself.

Rogue looked at him. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No," Jeff lied, smiling again. "Nothing at all."

_To Be Continued . . ._

* * *

Author's Note

If I'd managed to keep to the schedule I'd set for myself, I'd probably be posting the fifteenth chapter by now. I didn't plan on slowing down like this just because I enjoy torturing you. That's just a side benefit.

But who knows? Maybe the death threats will motivate me to write more. And I'm sure that those of you who actually know where I live will be hounding me the moment I'm done with finals this semester.

Anyway, reader-frustration aside, I hope you enjoyed my portrayal of Mystique. She was always supposed to be the great manipulator, though I thought it didn't work quite as well as it could have in XME. Mostly that was because twenty minutes at a time isn't enough to really show a master manipulator at work. That whole scene would have taken up most of an episode by itself.

Before that, you also had a chance to see Jeff acting more like an angsty teen. He's a bottler; if he can't out-think it (or punch it into submission), he'll tend to shove his problems to the side until they get too big for him to ignore. Jeff's lost his parents, moved to a new town, and suddenly become involved in a species-wide struggle. All he really wants is to be back in his old life, and he's starting to reach his breaking point. But you'll have to wait for Volume Four to get to that. That's still four installments away, which may take a long time right now.

I promise, though, that I'm not abandoning the story any time soon. You're welcome to contact me by PM or through the discussion board. I also have one more installment that I can put up, but since I don't know how long it will be until the next one, I'll like to save it. It doesn't answer anything from this issue, and it has a cliffhanger of its own, so I'm not sure it'll help very much.

Until next time!


	9. Issue 9: Shadow Dance: Ambush

Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. Mostly.

Well . . . slightly.

Hi, folks. Sorry for all this. I've been silent for over a year. During that time I had to finish college, deal with more health problems, deal with other family members' health problems, and the wonderfully stimulated economy. I also went through two very bad periods with two different girls, and I can't tell you how hard it is to write a romance when the thought of romance brings you pain.

(Yes, in case you hadn't noticed, this is a romance story. Several romance stories, eventually, all cleverly disguised as an action/adventure romp. I was surprised when I mentioned this to two friends of mine, author Regina Doman and her editor husband, who had been completely fooled. I actually feel like a good author now.)

Regardless, I'm tentatively saying I'm back. I have no idea when the next installment will be up, because it's not yet finished. I've had this one in reserve since the last update, and the time has come to release it and hopefully get everyone interested in this little story again.

In addition, I've got another story up on FanFiction now. More on that after this installment, however. I've kept you waiting long enough.

* * *

X-Men: Evolution

_Maverick_ #9:  
Shadow Dance, Part 3

_Ambush_

by  
Bookwyrm

Finally, Some Action.

* * *

  
Rogue grinned, slipping on her uniform gloves as she left the room she shared with Kitty. "Come on, sleepy-head, you're gonna be late."

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Kitty yelled back. She adjusted her uniform, grabbed a hair-scrunchie, and ran after her roommate. Instead of going through the door, however, she phased through the wall to catch up, yawning widely as she did so.

"Not enough sleep?" Rogue asked, teasing. The two of them began walking to the elevator. "You and Lance were still on the phone at one-thirty!"

_Boy, she sure is peppy this morning_, Kitty thought, smiling as she drew her hair back in a pony tail. _Jeff's had a good effect on her. It's a nice change from the usual Grumpy Goth. Even if it _is_ a little irritating at this hour._

"So," Rogue continued, looking sly. "Didja ask him?"

"To the dance?" Kitty was taken aback. "No. You know what everyone around here would say."

Abruptly, Rogue lost her cheer. "Who cares?" she snapped, not looking at her.

"Well, he's supposed to be our mortal enemy or something."

"So was I, remember?" Rogue scowled. "If everyone here can accept me, then they can at least accept you hangin' out with him." They reached the elevator door, and she slammed her gloved fist on the call button.

"Wait a minute," Kitty said, confused. "The other day you were ragging on me about Lance. Why'd you change your mind?"

Rogue crossed her arms and glared at the elevator doors. "Look, I don't like the guy," she said, "but that doesn't mean you should worry about what everyone else here thinks. He ain't our 'mortal enemy.' He's just one of the Brotherhood. Everyone here accepted _me_ just fine."

"Okay, okay. No need to get all uptight or anything. Nobody here has a problem with how you used to be a Brotherhood member." Kitty paused, a thought occurring to her. "Um, does Jeff know about that?"

Rogue looked away and didn't answer.

"Oh." Kitty blinked. "So that's what this is about."

The elevator dinged and opened. "Whatever," Rogue muttered, stepping inside. Kitty followed.

"Hold that elevator!"

Kitty quickly hit the hold button as Jean slipped inside, wearing her uniform. It was a similar design to Kitty's, though green where hers was grey-blue. Kitty hit their destination again, and the elevator started moving down.

"Thanks," Jean said, running her hands through her long red hair. "Forgot to set my alarm."

"Why do we need to be at this, anyways?" Kitty asked, to fill the silence as much as to complain about getting up so early.

"We work as a team," Jean answered, "so it's important --"

"-- to know each other's strengths and weaknesses," Rogue said in unison with her. She waved a gloved hand. "Yeah, yeah. We know the drill."

Jean blinked in surprise, and looked at Kitty. Kitty motioned for her not to say anything, and they rode the rest of the way in silence.

However, after the doors opened and Rogue quickly exited, Jean looked at Kitty again. "What's her problem?" she asked the smaller girl.

"She's worried about Jeff," Kitty answered. "She hasn't talked about it, but I think she's worried that if he gets to know to much about her he'll stop liking her."

"That's . . ." Jean shook her head. "I don't think she has to worry about that."

"Her latest worry's about what Jeff will think when he finds out she used to be a card-carrying member of the Brotherhood."

Jean rolled her eyes. "Okay. She's paranoid. So she took a wrong turn. She'll have to do a lot more to get him to lose his feelings for her." She smiled. "I might not be able to peek at his thoughts, but I've heard him talk about her. I wish _I _had a boyfriend who talked about how he likes my eyes. I'm not sure Duncan even knows what color they are."

"Well, are you going to ask him to the dance anyway?" Kitty asked, grinning. "You know, while we're on the subject and all."

Jean started walking forward, and Kitty followed. "Well, _he_ certainly thinks so," she replied. Her smile turned sly. "He even bought tickets already. I just _might_ have to disappoint him . . ."

* * *

The thick double doors to the Danger Room retracted as Rogue approached. Inside, she could see that a large amount of odd equipment had been arranged on the floor. Forge was fiddling with some sort of doohickey, his fake arm in tool-mode. The Professor was tapping at a computer terminal, while Storm and Logan were hooking up some cables. She could just see Beast's feet sticking out from under some of the other equipment. Kurt was standing next to Forge, while the other students just stood around watching.

"I got so excited when I dreamt this up," Forge was saying. "Soon, Kurt, you'll be zapping anywhere on the globe."

"But . . . two miles is my limit," Kurt protested. "And I have to see or know where I'm going."

Rogue was distracted as the doors opened again, and Jeff walked in. Unlike everyone else except the Prof and Forge, he was wearing ordinary street clothes.

"Morning, Jeff," Rogue greeted him, feeling some of her earlier irritation leave her.

"Morning, Rogue," Jeff said, looking around. "I feel . . . underdressed. Why's everyone suited up? I thought only Kurt was going through the test?"

"Oh, standard guidelines for using the Danger Room," Rogue told him. "Everyone who has one is expected to be wearing a uniform inside. It can get kinda rough in here."

"What, with holograms?"

"And spikes, moving walls, tentacle arms, lasers, that sort of thing." Rogue smirked. "You know. Standard Mutant High gym class stuff."

"Oh. Lovely. I'm not going to get in trouble for being in jeans and a sweatshirt, am I?"

Rogue shrugged. "They haven't said anything yet. And besides, you don't actually have your own uniform."

"Yeah, and I don't want to wear Scott's again. It looks like he's got a 'please hit me here' target on his chest." Jeff made a face. "And I hate those shoulder pads. I don't know how you stand it."

"Eh. I've gotten used to them. And they can be useful. Anyways, why were you so late? I know you can't have slept in."

"Nah. I stayed up all night again. I was reading up on some astrophysics stuff. There's this theory about standing gravity waves between star systems that Kitty told me about and I wanted to get some more facts on that."

Rogue looked at him suspiciously. She couldn't see his eyes, and he was keeping a straight face, but somehow she could detect a trace of amusement. "Really. And that kept you busy all night."

"Well, no," Jeff admitted. A trace of a smile began pulling at his lips, though he was obviously fighting it. "That lasted about ten minutes. Then Bobby came in and wanted to know if I'd like to play _Battlefield 2_ with him, Evan, Roberto, Sam, and Jubilee. _That's_ what kept me busy all night. Fun game. After they finally collapsed, I started playing online."

"Wow." Rogue lifted both hands as if painting something on the air. "I can see the headlines now. 'Jeff McGovern Revealed To Be Normal Teen! Scientists Baffled!'"

"Hey, I'm not that bad," Jeff protested.

"Okay, places everyone!" Forge called out. "Please make certain you aren't standing inside the sensors' fields."

"Come on, geek-boy," Rogue said, motioning for Jeff to follow her. "Let's do what Mr. Saturday Night Fever says."

The two teens joined the throng of other students standing outside the circle of equipment, as Scott adjusted Kurt's breathing mask.

"Must be hard to get a soft seal with all that fur in the way," Jeff noted, his voice low.

Rogue nudged him with an elbow. "Hush, you."

"Aim for my old lab at the high school," Forge was telling Kurt. "It's farther than you've ever gone before, and there shouldn't be anyone around to see your arrival."

"He's got his own lab at the school?" Jeff asked Rogue.

"What, is there an echo in here?" she shot back.

"When you get there, report back via your communicator," Xavier said, as Scott moved behind the equipment to join the others.

Kurt half-crouched, looking like he was about to pounce on something, as he watched the indicator lights flash on. His tail was the only thing that moved, swishing back and forth like a cat's.

Then the last light came on, and Kurt Wagner vanished in a faintly visible cloud of sulphur dioxide.

Jeff waved his hand under his nose as the rotting-egg smell reached him. "Wow, that's freaky."

"What, him teleporting?" Rogue asked, remembering that this was the first time he had seen Kurt use his power.

"No. The fact that someone who looks like a demon at first glance can appear and reappear in a flash of brimstone."

"Yeah, I guess." Rogue hadn't really thought about it before. "Fortunately, it goes away pretty quickly."

Before she was done, the intercom crackled to life. _"Wow, what a trip!"_ came Kurt's voice. _"Hang on, I'm coming home!"_

A moment later, in another puff of smoke, Kurt was standing in the Danger Room with them again.

"Wow, you should have seen it!" he was saying the moment he materialized. "Fire, lava, smoke . . . it was amazing! Like nothing I'd ever seen!"

Xavier held up a hand. "We'll leave the analysis for later, Nightcrawler," he said, amused. "Right now, you children have classes to attend today."

"Ororo, I believe it's your week to play bus driver," Logan said to Storm.

"My 'week,' Logan?" Storm repeated, one delicate eyebrow arched. "We trade days, if I recall correctly."

"Yeah, but I had to drive the runts every day while you were gone." Logan smirked. "So you go have fun. I'm going to have a little alone-time with my bike."

"That reminds me," Jeff muttered. He called out to Forge. "Hey, Forge, did you fix my motorcycle?"

Rogue saw several others looking at Jeff in surprise. Jubilee and Tabitha seemed especially interested. Rogue frowned.

"Oh, yeah!" Forge grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, forgot to leave you a note. It's fixed. Better than ever, in fact. I even got rid of the dent!"

"Great, thanks!" Jeff answered. "I owe you one!" He looked at Rogue and smiled. "So. Want a ride?"

"You bet," Rogue said, smiling back as they started walking to the elevator. "I'll just have to get changed first. What was wrong with your bike?"

"It wasn't taken care of when it was in storage," Jeff told her. "Forge said he'd take a look at it."

"Ah. Knowing him, he's probably turned it into a transformer with a laser gun."

Jeff didn't miss a beat. "Well, at least I'll have something to clear the way during rush hour."

* * *

"Oh, nice," Rogue said appreciatively when she saw the motorcycle.

"Yeah, I like it." Jeff looked the bike over. "And Forge wasn't kidding about getting the dent out. I can't even see a scuff in the paint. What the heck did he do to it?"

"Hey, he's Forge. He's a supergenius." Rogue shrugged. "It works, right? So let's ride."

"Well, you're certainly eager to go to school," Jeff said, grinning.

"School nothing. I just want to take it for a spin, Brainiac. What can I say? I'm a girl with a soft spot for motorcycles."

"Huh, I guess I should have gotten one long ago, if you're anything to judge from." Jeff took off his glasses and tucked them into his backpack. Rogue saw his pale eyes briefly before he put his black helmet on.

"Hang on, let me grab Logan's spare," Rogue said, noticing there was only one.

"Why does someone with Logan's healing power need a helmet, anyway?" Jeff asked, his voice muffled. She couldn't see a hint of his face through the visor, which was probably why he felt comfortable removing his glasses.

"Probably so he doesn't get stopped by the cops for unsafe driving, genius." Rogue flashed him another grin before slipping on a red helmet that had been hanging on a hook. "Plus, they just look so cool."

"Yeah, I'll have to give you that," Jeff said, looking at the almost predatory design on Logan's helmet.

Jeff secured his backpack to the back, then got on and inserted his key. Rogue slipped on behind him as he turned on the motor, wrapping her arms around his waist. The engine virtually purred to life.

"Wow, he really fixed how it sounds," Jeff noted. "Okay, here we go."

The motorcycle leapt forward, and Rogue tightened her grip, startled. Jeff let the machine coast a bit as he accelerated more cautiously.

"Okay, that's weird!" Jeff told her, speaking loudly to be heard over the engine and the wind of their passage. "It's responding to a feather touch now!"

"That's Forge for you!" Rogue answered in his ear. "He never does things by halves!"

Jeff grinned as the gates opened automatically at their approach. "Well, here's hoping we don't meet any cops along the way!"

"Now you're talkin'!" Rogue tightened her grip again and leaned against him. "Hit it, Maverick!"

"Your wish is my command!" Jeff goosed the engine up, and they sped out the entrance.

* * *

Hidden in a tree across the street, Pietro Maximoff watched them as they left. "Maverick and Rogue," he muttered out loud. "Jeez. Even their names are a couple. Hello, any imagination? Still, at least he's got good taste in vehicles."

In a flash, the boy known as Quicksilver sped down the tree trunk and through the woods that ran parallel to the road. Stopping, he watched again as the two lovebirds drove by him.

"Why does Father want to bother with this fracking loser?" Pietro asked the empty air. He quickly doubled back the way he came and zoomed down the hill to another vantage point to spy on them again. "He's not going to join us, so why waste the effort?"

However, even Pietro had to admit that part of his distaste came from frustration. The problem wasn't so much picking a fight with Maverick. That was easy. The problem was that he was never far from the other X-Men. Even Quicksilver wasn't faster than Cyclops's power, and he certainly couldn't outrun no-name Jean Grey's telekinesis. And if the human-loving Xavier was around, forget about it -- because if you didn't, he'd make you.

Pietro clenched his fists at the memory of how the X-Men had schooled them time and again. He'd get them back. Maverick was just the beginning.

* * *

Jeff managed to find Lance Alvers at the start of his free period, spotting him in the hallway between classes. Jeff quickly caught up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hi, Lance," Jeff said as the other boy turned around. "Got a moment?"

"For what, _X-Man_?" Lance asked, using the name like it was an insult.

"I just want to talk, Lance," Jeff said, spreading his hands slightly. He checked to make certain that no one was around to hear them. "I'm new to all of this, and I thought I might get some information from you."

"Really?" Lance scoffed. "Sounds more like you want to spy on the Brotherhood. Get some information for the X-Men."

"Please. Why would the X-Men need to do that?" Jeff shook his head. "It's not like they'd need to trick you to get your secrets. Heck, even without Dr. Xavier or Jean, there's Kurt or Kitty to spy on you. Or Rogue could just touch you."

Lance scowled and crossed his arms. "Look, what do you want to know?"

"Just . . . background stuff. Mystique, Magneto, that sort of thing."

"Look, that's all past," Lance said, giving him a dismissive wave and turning away again. "They're both gone and not coming back. I gotta live for myself, not someone else, so let's just drop it, okay?"

Jeff started to say more, but then stopped and let him walk away towards a water fountain. He sighed. "That went just perfect," he muttered to himself.

_He's certainly wrong about Mystique,_ Jeff thought to himself, leaning against the side of a bank of lockers and watching Lance. _She's back. And I might be the only one who knows about it. I hate keeping that from everyone, but I promised I wouldn't tell. Not yet, anyway. But still, she's back, and I need more information from as many sources as I can. _

_Same goes for Magneto. If Mystique's back, it's likely Magneto is. He's supposed to be really powerful. There's something going on here, and I need to know more._

_And I also need to know if Lance is really one of the bad guys. I think I know what color hats the players are wearing, but I don't want to risk making a mistake. Not with something this big._

As Jeff watched, he saw Kitty come up to Lance, acting a little nervous. Lance seemed disinterested, at least at first, but when Kitty was walking away again he called after her. Whatever he said seemed to make her happy, because she smiled as widely as Jeff had ever seen her go.

Jeff heard a faint buzzing, like a piece of machinery in a duct someplace was malfunctioning. He looked around, curious. A moment later, though, the sound was lost in the rumble of an earth-tremor. Jeff glanced back at Lance, who was smiling rather sheepishly at Kitty.

_Huh, _Jeff thought. _So I was right._

* * *

Even as Jeff watched Lance, another set of eyes studied Jeff. They belonged to a short blond-haired boy -- or so it appeared.

_Well now,_ Mystique mused to herself. _Little Jeff wants information from a source other than Xavier. Perhaps I reached him. It's unfortunate I cannot do more to recruit him, but he seems suspicious of everything new. _

She smiled to herself. _At least Eric will have an even harder time gaining his trust, should he ever try. He might be a master strategist, but none of the Lensher family have ever been known for their patience. _

The bell rang, and the shapeshifter glanced at the clock on the wall. It was time to go. She had a more permanent disguise to maintain.

* * *

After his free period, Jeff opened his locker to grab the books he would need in the afternoon. His locker was on the far side of the school from the cafeteria, and he didn't want to rush out on Rogue at the end of her lunch period.

He noticed a folded piece of paper on the locker floor, apparently slipped in through the grill. He picked it up, unfolding it to find a note. Under his glasses, his eyes narrowed as he read the words inside.

"Hi, Jeff," came Risty's accented voice behind him. "Coming to lunch?"

"Yeah." Jeff put the note inside one of his books. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, I don't expect you to come sit with us every time, y'know," Risty answered. "You never actually eat with us, so maybe you'd go off to the library and read sometime or something."

Jeff gave her a smile. "And miss out on spending time with my two favorite goth girls? Not a chance."

Risty smiled back. "Oh, you're such a gent. Not that I believe for one second that you'd sit with me if Rogue weren't around."

"Well, I admit I might be playing favorites, but don't sell yourself short," he told her. "I do like that dry British sense of humor you've got."

"Of course we're dry," Risty answered. "Back in England it rains so much it's about the only thing that _is_ dry, so it's almost a survival trait." She motioned at the note, sticking out of Jeff's textbook. "So, secret admirer? Should my best bud be worried?"

"Nah, just a guy wanting me to meet him later," Jeff answered. He placed the books into his bag. "He might want some tutoring help or something."

"Ah. Spread the knowledge and all." They started walking towards the cafeteria. "You know, Jeff, I'm really glad you've been so nice to Rogue. She could use some happiness, y'know?"

"Well, she's a nice girl," Jeff said, a little uncomfortable.

"Most blokes don't see her like you do," Risty told him. "Like Scott Summers. He hardly gives her the time of day."

"Scott? He seemed nice enough to her."

"Not the way she was wanting."

"Oh." Jeff paused as he considered that. "Do you really think we should be discussing this? It's more like something she should tell me herself."

"All I'm saying is you're the first guy to really take an interest in her here. You make her feel special, and I like that. I want to see my girl happy."

"Okay." Jeff smiled slightly.

"And, of course," Risty continued lightly, "if you hurt her I'll kill you."

"Sounds fair."

"Just so we're clear and all."

Jeff's smile grew. "I tremble at the thought of your righteous wrath, like a peasant before the queen."

"Oh, shut up, Yank."

* * *

For the first time in eight days, Rogue sat down to an empty table. For once, Jeff was nowhere to be seen, and she felt surprisingly at a loss. Before last week, she was always the first to this table, and normally only Risty would join her. Now, without Jeff waiting there for her, Rogue felt . . . alone.

Irritated with the direction of her thoughts, Rogue shoved a bite of food in her mouth and chewed mechanically. What little taste it had failed to even register. _Why am I feeling like this? _Rogue thought to herself. _I've always managed on my own. Even when I had a real home. If anyone can call that a real home. Anyway, Jeff not being here shouldn't make me feel like this. He's probably in the bathroom anyway._

The little voice of worry wouldn't let up, though. _He's always been here before . . ._

"Like, hi, Rogue!"

_Oh, crap. I'm not in the mood for Kitty right now . . ._

Her brown-haired, bubbly roommate flopped down in the chair across from her. Rogue was shocked when someone else joined them -- Jean Grey herself, folding her legs under herself with the elegance that always made Rogue feel like an awkward cow.

_What is she doing here?_ Rogue wondered to herself.

"So." Kitty leaned across the table, and Rogue noticed that neither of them had trays. "Jean and I were talking . . ."

"Sounds dangerous," Rogue said sarcastically.

"Rogue, we just thought we'd offer to take you to the mall with us this afternoon," Jean said.

"For what? I doubt y'all are wanting to go to Goths'R'Us with me."

"Well, we're dress-shopping for Saturday," Kitty told her. "And we thought you'd like to come."

"I got clothes," Rogue said, glaring. "I don't need to have a new wardrobe for every occasion."

"Well, don't you want something a little less goth for the dance?" Kitty asked.

Rogue gritted her teeth, biting back what she wanted to say. The truth was, she had been searching through her wardrobe the night before, and she hadn't been able to find anything that looked appropriate. Sure, she had some fancier stuff, but they were not what most people would call "normal" clothes. She knew it, and Kitty knew it.

"Don't we have to practice after school, though?" Rogue asked, stalling.

"You mean with the nunchucks?" Kitty asked. "That's just with us and Jeff. I'm sure he'd would be willing to put that off until later. We could do it after dinner."

"I guess." As she was wrestling with indecision, Rogue spotted Jeff walking up to them. He smiled as he saw her looking at him, and Rogue felt the corners of her mouth turn up in response.

"Sorry I'm late," Jeff said as he sat down to Rogue's left. "Ran into Risty. She's getting some food, so she'll be a few minutes. Hi, Jean. Hi, Kitty."

"Like, hi!" Kitty said, almost bouncing with cheer.

"Hi, Jeff," Jean said, looking a little uncomfortable.

_Right, she finds him odd to be around, with her power, _Rogue thought. _Makes her feel funny not being able to read someone's mind._ She let herself feel a little smug at that. Anything that made Miss Perfect uncomfortable was rare enough to be enjoyed.

"We were just asking Rogue if she wanted to come to the mall with us," Kitty said, still bubbly.

Jeff glanced over in Rogue's direction. "Really? What do you have planned?"

"Girly shopping," Kitty said. "New dresses for the dance. I know we were going to practice, but we can do that later, right?"

"I suppose," Jeff answered. He looked at Rogue again. "If Rogue wants to go," he added.

"Haven't decided yet," Rogue muttered, looking away.

"Well, if it helps, I was actually thinking of asking you two to reschedule," Jeff said. "Something's . . . come up."

Rogue looked at him, hearing the hesitation in his voice. She opened her mouth to ask him what happened, but was cut off by Kitty's bubbling.

"Like, great!" Kitty said, in full valley-girl mode. "So there's no problem at all!"

_There must be a full moon out tonight,_ Rogue thought sarcastically. _That time when the were-shoppers transform into bargain-hunters, drooling over price tags. I swear, Kitty might be one of the smartest people in the school, but her IQ goes down in direct proportion to the latest sale._

"It'll be nice," Jean added. "You know, just the three of us, going to the mall like normal girls."

"Do I look like a normal girl to you?" Rogue retorted. The thought of the three of them going into a cookie-cutter department store, hunting for a cheerfully pastel-colored dress, made her want to laugh and be sick at the same time. "Our styles don't exactly mesh, you know."

"We can find something you'd like," Jean persisted. "Kitty and I aren't going to wear the same thing either."

"Maybe you could go with Risty as well," Jeff suggested. "If it would make you feel better."

"Yeah, maybe," Rogue admitted.

"That might not be a good idea," Jean reminded them. "She doesn't know about Rogue's problem. Getting fitted for a dress is going to be hard enough as it is without her getting suspicious."

_My "problem." Yeah, that's a nice way of putting it._ Rogue's hands clenched into fists in her lap. "I don't know," she said out loud. "I've got some fancy stuff. I can wear that."

"Maybe if you were a vampire," Kitty said, rolling her eyes. "I was thinking you might want something with a few less rips and maybe not made of leather. Wouldn't you, Jeff?"

Jeff raised his eyebrows. "Why ask me? I'm fine with whatever Rogue wants to wear."

Rogue had to smile. "Really? Anything?"

Jeff looked up at the lights in the ceiling, affecting a thoughtful expression. "Well, anything but pink," he said mock-seriously. "I draw the line at dancing with a girl who looks like she was dipped in a vat of Pepto-Bismol."

Under the table, Rogue rested her hand on his leg for a moment. He moved his to hold it, and she squeezed his hand gratefully.

"Well, okay," she said finally, looking at the other girls. "No guarantees I'm gonna get anything, though."

"Great!" Kitty said. "Fine by us!"

"We'll leave from the Institute after school," Jean said, smiling. "I'm sure I can get Scott to lend us his car."

"Speaking of which . . ." Kitty trailed off, looking at Jean slyly.

"Oh, look at the time," Jean said, looking a little flustered. "Got to run." She stood up and walked off.

Kitty winked at Rogue. "Guess she has someone to meet, huh? Well, I'm going to go grab some food before they're out. See you after school!"

"What was that about?" Jeff asked, once they were gone.

"I guess Jean's going to go ask Scott to the dance," Rogue said, feeling a weird twinge as she said it. "Kitty's going to ask Lance, I'm pretty sure. If she hasn't already."

"Yeah, I think I saw her doing that," Jeff told her. "It's a little strange to think of an Institute member going out with a Brotherhood boy."

"I guess." Rogue very carefully did not look at him. "It's nothing big, though, right?"

Jeff looked at her quizzically. "I suppose not. Anyway, isn't Jean Duncan Matthews's girlfriend? Why would she ask Scott?"

"They've kinda had this mutual thing going on since before I met them," Rogue said, glad he was changing the subject -- even if it was to this one. "I don't know why they've been dancing around each other, but I heard her saying something this morning about how she was going to 'disappoint' Duncan. Maybe Jean's tired of waiting around for Scott."

"Well, it's a better match, right?" Jeff's tone seemed slightly different, but Rogue couldn't place it.

"Yeah, I guess. Not that it takes much to top Dumbkin. Say, can I borrow your physics book? I forgot mine, and we're due for a pop quiz."

"Sure thing." Jeff let go of her hand. Rogue had completely forgotten he was still holding it, and its sudden absence made her uncomfortable. Jeff unzipped his bag to fish the book out. "I guess I don't really need it today," he said as he handed it to her. "I barely use it in class."

"That's because you've got the whole thing memorized, freak," Rogue said, taking it and placing it in her own bag. "We mere mortals, on the other hand, have to muddle through as best we can. I'm still trying to figure out what the difference is between a mason and a quirk."

"One works with stone, the other's a personality trait," Jeff said, smiling. "Or did you mean mesons and quarks?"

Rogue groaned. "See? That's what I'm talking about. We're all playing catch-up to you and Kitty. You're like walking, talking brains."

"I don't know about Kitty, but I just have more time on my hands. That's all."

"Yeah, right. You're smart and you know it. I hear your answers in class."

"So maybe I'm good at physics. I just read more about it." Jeff looked away.

_Wow. Am I embarrassing him? _Rogue thought, seeing a hint of red in his cheeks. "I have two classes with you, remember?" she continued, enjoying having the upper hand for once. "You have the same thing going in American Government. Mr. Goldwasser's fit to be tied at the idea of someone actually able to answer those stupid questions of his. He was throwing pop quizzes all the time until you showed up and he started picking on you."

"You know, if you're having problems, I can always help you study," Jeff told her, looking uncomfortable.

"I know, but I just want to try doing it myself," Rogue answered. Looking up, she spotted Risty walking towards them with a tray of food. "It's nice of you to offer, but for now I want to earn it on my own."

"Earn what?" Risty asked, sitting down across from Rogue.

"I was just offering to help Rogue with her homework," Jeff said.

"Sounds great." Risty grinned as she opened her milk carton. "A little private tutoring, perhaps by candlelight and some soft Italian music in the background?"

"Risty!" Rogue felt herself blushing.

"I don't know, Risty," Jeff answered calmly. "I've seen some of Rogue's music collection. I think she might have an allergic reaction to any soft music, much less Italian. It's like having two pounds of chocolate after a steady diet of ramen noodles; it'll just make you sick." Rogue punched Jeff in the arm, but he just grinned at her. "Hey! Stop me if I lie!"

* * *

Hours later, Jeff stood in front of Logan's door. It didn't take him long to find the strand of hair stuck to the door and frame about two inches off the ground. It was an old spy trick he'd read about -- you lick a strand of your own hair and press it over the crack, where it sticks. That way, if the door was opened it was immediately apparent to the owner upon his return . . . unless, of course, the improvised security device was spotted. Jeff carefully marked the location of the hair with a broken pencil tip he pulled from a pocket, then moved the strand aside.

The door was locked, of course, but that was hardly an obstacle. The Institute, for all its security systems, was still a modified residence. The rooms didn't even have bolt-locks on them. Jeff simply slipped his driver's license into the crack and popped the lock.

As he did so, Jeff noticed a scrape on the doorjamb at about his eye level. Frowning, he placed his license under the spot, letting the door latch again. He slid the card up though the crack, and his frown became a smile as he encountered resistance. "Clever," he murmured.

He pulled out his debit card, holding it in his left hand as he used his license to left the second latch up. Only after it was out of the way did he use the debit card to pop the regular door latch. He carefully pushed the door open with his foot.

_Glad I caught that one_, Jeff thought, looking up. The second latch was rigged to a small bucket hanging above the door. If it wasn't moved out of the way before the door was opened -- from the mark on the door, Logan probably used one of his claws to do so -- then it would dump its contents on whoever was breaking in. And knowing Logan, it most likely wasn't filled with water.

Jeff glanced around the room, his lips pursing in a silent whistle. It was pretty spartan, except for the weapon collection. Nunchaku, sais, naginatas, katanas, throwing stars, throwing daggers, kamas, and even a spiked mace and a bladed chain whip. Then there were at least a dozen guns of various calibers, including two rifles with what looked like night-vision sniper scopes.

Jeff shook his head. _You can admire his collection later,_ he told himself. Finding what he was looking for on a table next to a pile of beer bottles and two half-smoked cigar stogies, he stuck it under his jacket and quickly exited the room the way he came in. Using his license again, he replaced the trip-latch, and then did the same for the piece of hair at the bottom of the door.

Hurrying down the hall, Jeff started as he almost bumped into someone coming around the corner. It was Forge.

"Oh, groovy," Forge said, taking a step back. "I was just lookin' for you. What are you doing over here?"

Jeff recovered, pointing back down the hall. "I just stopped by Logan's room, but he isn't there," he said, telling the absolute truth.

"Oh, yeah, he's in the Danger Room," Forge told him. "We're repeating the experiment with Nightcrawler again. Turns out there's actually life in that other place he teleports through! Wolverine's going to go with him this time, just in case. I was just looking around for anyone who wants to come and watch."

Jeff shook his head. "No thanks. I've got someplace I need to go. And besides . . . no offense, but the test this morning was a little boring."

Forge shrugged. "Yeah, I guess it's a bit of a snoozer if you're just watching. I could put you on the instruments, but they're a little funky. The guy who made them is a real genius, but he's not used to designing things for a lot of other people to use."

"Yeah. Well, thanks anyway." Jeff moved to go around him.

"Sure. Hey, is the bike okay for you?"

"Just fine," Jeff told him, stopping. He smiled gratefully. "It sounds great now. How'd you get the dent out?"

Forge smiled back. "Trade secret. Well, actually, I used something I'm not supposed to have, but I grabbed it anyway. In fact, the whole engine assembly's technically supposed to be out of my hands, but it's not like there's a patent on it yet."

"Wait, what? What's special about the engine?"

"Oh, right. It's this thing invented by the same guy who did the machines downstairs. You know what ZPE is?"

"Zero-point energy?" Jeff shook his head. "You're kidding. Please say you're kidding."

"Nope." Forge grinned like the Cheshire cat. "Your bike will never need a gallon of gas again. It runs off of the universe itself. Or maybe it's the universe next door; my boss isn't quite certain."

Jeff shook his head in wonder. "Okay, I'm going to have to stop having expectations around you, but I always thought ZPE would never be useful as a power-source. If the theory's correct, there ought to be enough radiation to destroy any device that releases it. Now my own bike is running off of it?"

"Well, the radiation isn't as bad as the theory suggested, not with the way it's being filtered. There's a lot of excess heat, for one thing, so I installed a special piece designed to cool things down. Unfortunately, it's pretty loud, as I'm sure you noticed."

"Still, pretty shiny." Jeff looked up at the ceiling, his original plans temporarily forgotten. "Kinda helps with gas prices these days."

"As for its power output, it's not useful for much more than running vehicles. I think the upper limit would be a smallish supersonic jet; after that the power ratio curves get a little wonky. We won't be flying to the moon on these things, at least not in something large enough to be really practical. But it would save the whole oil problem."

"At least until the ZPE in this region of space runs out," Jeff responded. "No such thing as a cosmic free lunch."

"Well, that I can't answer for. I just had a spare ZPE module from the equipment downstairs, and I thought I'd stick it in. Let me know how it works. I can finish the modifications tonight."

"Modifications?"

"Yeah. Really it's just putting a new switch on there. If you open the front storage pocket, you'll find a couple of jerry-rigged switches, basically just crossed wires; I'll replace it with something mounted on the dashboard later, if Beast will give me a spare from his stores. The switches adjust the power levels. If I got it right, you should actually have a sort of stealth mode once I'm done with it. It uses up the energy reservoir like a frat party does a keg of beer, and it'll get pretty hot pretty quick, but you get a good turn of speed with the bike almost silent."

"Handy."

"Yeah. And then you can also use it to get bursts of speed. I'm hoping to put some extra doodads in it as well, if Beast has some parts for me."

"Really." Jeff smiled. "Tell me more."

* * *

Half an hour later, Jeff motored into the abandoned lot, looking around. No sign of him at the moment, but that wasn't surprising. Jeff goosed up the engine and rode it into the old iron works, headed for the main factory building. It seemed as good a place as any to wait.

Parking the bike, Jeff took off his helmet, replaced his sunglasses, and looked around. Still nothing. No one in sight, and no sound except for some seagulls cawing from the far end of the property.

Jeff leaned against the side of the building and frowned. He was right on time, but that might not mean the person he was meeting was late. Things might be a little hectic on his end, what with all the cloak and dagger stuff they were both going through.

_Assuming, of course, that this is what it's supposed to be_, Jeff thought. He closed his eyes and concentrated.

For a little while, he didn't feel anything, but just as he was giving up he got it. A buzz, more felt than heard, getting stronger all the time. A buzz he had felt before. And it was coming from behind him . . . no, above him now. Jeff opened his eyes and glanced up under the cover of his glasses. Yeah, there was a second-story window over his head.

Jeff looked back down in time to see a white blur go streaking by. In the space of an eyeblink, it reversed course and came to a sudden halt in front of him. Pietro Maximoff stood in front of him, wearing a fancy silver and green jumpsuit.

"Hello, Quicksilver," Jeff said calmly. "Fancy meeting you here. Haven't seen Lance around, have you?"

"I'm afraid Avalanche won't be joining us today," Quicksilver said, his words almost a jumble due to how fast he was speaking. There was an eager look in his eye.

The doors to the factory burst open, and Fred Dukes came lumbering out. "Hi, Maverick," the tall, fat kid said thickly. "It's a real pleasure t' meet ya." He punctuated his statement by slamming one meaty fist into the side of the building. The cement facing cracked.

"So, Maverick." Quicksilver struck a mock-innocent pose, smirking. "Ever get the feeling you've been . . . set up?"

Jeff felt another buzz from above. Seeing a shadow move along the wall, he jumped to the side, lashing out with his left arm. It was an almost unaimed punch, but it still connected with Todd Tolansky's head as the boy tried leaping onto him from above. Toad sprawled on the ground, stunned.

Jeff reached under his jacket with his right hand, pulling out a metallic cylinder and closing the cap on the end. Its dial already set, the multiweapon quickly lengthened into its bo-staff setting. Jeff twirled it for a moment, then went into a guard position.

"Ever get the feeling," Jeff said, smiling back, "that you're predictable?"

_To Be Continued . . ._

_

* * *

_

Author's Note

_Cliffhanger!_ If you hate me, I've done my job properly. ;)

As XME fans will have noticed immediately, this chapter marks the start of the actual second season episode Shadow Dance. Cue dramatic music, and the copied dialogue. When I first wrote this, a beta reader who hadn't seen the episode was wondering why Kitty in particular sounded so stilted in that opening scene, and was about to ask me to rewrite it when she found out what the reason was.

I'm hardly impressed with the original dialogue myself, but it's important to show that this is still the same story as the original comics, even though it's increasingly an alternate universe. The substantial change occurred when Jeff's parents died; in the original timeline, the X-Men never met him, and Jeff's power was never discovered. In this timeline, he moved to Bayville and sparked an increasing number of changes.

Yes, things will happen with Jeff's bike. Feel free to speculate on the bike's upcoming features. Who knows? Yours might get in. I'll give credit where it's due.

Also . . . Jeff's secondary power is revealed! Sort of. It's pretty obvious, anyway, but it'll get explicitly covered in the narrative soon.

If you still want more, there's always the new fanfic I mentioned at the top of the chapter. It's called _**The Sisters Black**_, and it's written by my friends Elena and MJ. It's a _Harry Potter_ fanfic and it focuses, in alternating chapters, on Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy, starting back when they were Bella and Cissa Black. I'll stress that I didn't write it -- I'm the editor. (So, for one thing, you'll find that the chapters are much, much shorter than mine!) If you want more of "me," then you'll be disappointed; but if you want more of "what I like," then this most certainly has my stamp of approval. Just go to my profile to find it.

See you all here again soon! Hopefully. :) Please write reviews!


	10. Issue 10: Shadow Dance: Shopping for a F

Thanks for the wonderful reviews -- keep it up! I can't respond to all of them in this space, but there's a lot to say anyway.

**Kamiko no Ummei:** Glad I could help. Just remember that the real thing is not as pronounced as Rogue's eyes in this story.

**Umeplumblossom:** Glad to get your stamp of approval. ;) As for other characters, though, I think you're missing the point -- this story is about a gradual romance between Maverick and Rogue, and is mainly centered from Maverick's point of view. Other characters are only in it as they serve the larger plot. It really isn't a story about the team.

That said, I would like to write some side-stories, like quasi-one-shots, looking at the different characters. I don't have anything really planned at the moment, though I figured it would center around the new female student who will be arriving in the next story-arc.

**Kamiko no Ummei:** This chapter should answer that. Read this, then re-read the last one and you'll see what happened. (I admit it's a blink-and-miss-it bit, but it's actually supposed to be a head-scratcher for a few scenes.)

As for the alternate plot, yes, Jeff is an original character (as are the Fire Twins, even though they don't show up for much of the story). This is an alternate universe to the main Evolution universe, which is officially designated Earth-11052 (the "original" Marvel universe being Earth-616). This version that I created is more like Earth-11052-and-one-fifth. In the standard 11052 universe, Jeff's parents did not die, he did not move to Bayville, and he and Rogue never met. Some changes are simply because I want to, but mostly it all stems from that drunk driving accident.

**PuzzledPrincess:** Yes, you got Jean exactly. I get irritated when Jean is shown as being perfect. I knew a girl in college very much like her, but while many girls were jealous of her no one who knew her thought she was perfect. I've taken elements from her to use in my portrayal of Jean (though anyone who looked at the two of them side-by-side wouldn't see much resemblance). I'm doing that sort of thing with all the characters, including Jeff.

**Kii:** Just wait. ;) I know it's hard to be patient with my current writing speed, but that chapter you want is already in my notes and has been for years. As for my knowledge, I just collect random stuff. I'm trained in philosophy, theology, history, and physics, in addition to creative writing.

**Wanda:** You haven't even seen the stuff that's coming. A few people have gotten peeks at my notes, which cover at least three times as much as what's already been written, probably more like five. You'll be getting more original takes on canon characters -- as well as, if I get that far, a new origin for the Avengers.

**Ruiz:** Thanks! The trick on writing good fanfic is to treat it like it was an original as much as possible. That means you never let the fact that it's "just a fanfic" interfere with how much care you put into it. Also, beta readers definitely help.

* * *

X-Men: Evolution

_Maverick_ #10:

Shadow Dance, Part 4

_Shopping for a Fight_

by

Bookwyrm

That Didn't Quite Go as Planned.

* * *

In retrospect, picking a fight with three mutants might not have been a good idea.

That thought went through Jeff's head at about the same moment as he was slammed into a wall. Hard. He was surprised that the blow didn't crack his ribs, but it certainly sent the world spinning.

_Okay, so Dukes' power isn't like Quicksilver's_, he thought to himself. _Quicksilver's momentum itself is supplied by his power, so if I touch him he stops cold. Dukes, on the other hand, maintains the momentum his super-strength gives him even if he punches me . . ._

Jeff ducked just in time to avoid Fred Dukes' fist, and cement chips fell on his head in a brief shower.

_Right!_ Jeff thought. _Fight now, analyze later. Bottom line: no trying to roll with his punches._

"Oh, man, I think I'm gonna throw up," moaned Todd Tolansky, who was trying to get up. He clutched his head. "Clobber 'im, Blob! Ow."

"Sure thing, Toad." Fred Dukes rubbed his hands together, obviously relishing the thought of cutting loose. "My pleasure."

"Wait, your callsign is Blob?" Jeff asked incredulously. He couldn't help but smirk. "Couldn't you think of something else? 'Toad' is bad enough, but come on! Show some imagination!"

Blob flushed angrily. "Don't make fun of me," he growled, and tried punching Jeff again. Jeff ducked, but only barely in time -- Dukes was faster than he looked.

"Well, far be it for me to question such a man of stature as yourself," Jeff continued. Under his glasses, his eyes flicked over his surroundings, trying to find some sort of advantage. "But still, at least you could have tried for something more impressive. How about Indomitable Guy? Or Mountain Man? Maybe Colossus?"

"That one's taken," Quicksilver noted, sounding bored.

Jeff glanced at him, realizing that the white-haired boy hadn't moved since the start of the confrontation. He seemed content to let Dukes be the one fighting.

Dukes took advantage of Jeff's momentary distraction and managed to grab the multiweapon. Jeff tried to twist it out of his grasp, but the huge mutant was too strong.

"Let's see how tough you are without your fancy stick," Blob taunted, waving the silver bo staff in the air.

"Well, that's extraordinarily sportsmanlike," Jeff commented, straightening up. "Not that I expected anything less, of course. I understand the Brotherhood holds itself to the highest standards."

"Higher than the X-Men," Pietro retorted. "Brotherhood members have useful powers. None of that stuff like that girl at the Institute . . . what's her power, fake fireworks? I guess Xavier's planning to have her entertain _homo inferior_ children. It's about all she's good for. As for you? I was expecting more. You certainly talked tougher on Monday."

"Is that what this is about?" Jeff asked, watching Toad slowly hop behind Blob. _He really does look toad-like when he does that,_ Jeff thought to himself. _Though where he got that weird jumpsuit he's wearing is beyond me_. "I stopped you on Monday, and now you've brought in some stooges to help beat me up because you can't take me on your own?"

In less than an eyeblink, Pietro was inches from Jeff's face. "Cool it, man. I can run circles around you before you have time to take a step. You can't touch me, so you don't have a chance."

Fred Dukes had taken a step back, out of reach. Jeff took the opportunity to snap a right-handed hook at Pietro's face. Pietro, of course, saw it coming and ducked back just far enough for Jeff to miss. "Ha! See? You can't even -- aagggh!"

Jeff hadn't intended to hit him in the first place, only distract him long enough to bring out the can of pepper spray he had concealed in his left hand. Jeff was beginning to think he had bitten off more than he could chew with this little encounter, but at least he had managed to plan ahead. The spray caught Pietro full in the face, causing him to screech in pain and rub his eyes with superhuman speed.

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that," said Jeff, throwing a punch again. This time he connected, sending the much skinnier boy sprawling on the ground.

"Hey!" shouted Blob, stepping forward again. Jeff ducked under his punch, landing on his shoulder and rolling. He got up and began running for his bike.

"He's gettin' away!" yelled Toad. Jeff looked over his shoulder to see Toad in mid-air, leaping at him. He tried moving to the side, but Toad managed to grab onto his arm. Jeff changed his tactic, grabbing onto Toad's arm as well spinning on one foot. Toad slammed into the side of the building and fell to the ground, dazed once again.

Jeff jumped on his bike, turning the key and revving the engine. He swung wide to come around and point at the gate, but Fred Dukes was already running for it. He'd get there before Jeff did, and Pietro was getting back up. Even if Jeff managed to get by the Blob, he'd still have Quicksilver on his tail.

_Blast,_ Jeff thought. _Time for Plan B. Whatever that is._

Jeff spun the bike around again and roared off, headed into the ruined complex.

* * *

The salesgirl smiled brainlessly. "Anything I can help you with?" she asked. Her face was framed by short blond hair done up in that just-rolled-out-of-bed look that actually took two hours to get right. She wore a pink blouse and black dress pants, and her purple and silver nametag read "My Name Is KATE." An obnoxiously cheerful smiley face followed the name.

_Oh, great, it's Tour Guide Barbie's mall-rat cousin,_ Rogue thought. _New from Matel: it's Salesgirl Kate!_

"We're looking for some dresses," Jean told her. "For a dance."

"Oh, for all three of you?" the girl asked, looking them over. She seemed to hesitate when she got to Rogue.

Rogue looked away, feeling naked without her makeup on. Somehow -- she wasn't sure how, actually -- Jean and Kitty had managed to talk her into washing off her makeup before entering the store. They'd told her it would be easier to match skin tones and the like. At least they hadn't insisted on returning home to have her change out of her ripped and studded clothing.

"Yes, that's right," Jean told her. "All three of us. We're looking for something for Marie here first."

Rogue fought a grimace and held Jeff's physics book a little tighter. She knew Jean was just trying to keep up the appearance of normalcy, but Rogue had always hated that name. _Though I wonder if Jeff would prefer it? Something more normal?_ She pushed the thought away.

"Well, honey, you're a little tough," Kate said to Rogue. She looked her up and down. "You'd have a great hourglass if you showed it off a little more. There are some dresses over here that might work."

"No way," Rogue said as Salesgirl Kate pulled out the first dress. It was backless; the thought of exposing so much skin gave her shivers.

Jean saw the difficulty too. "Perhaps something a little more modest?" she asked.

A trace of disapproval flittered across Salesgirl Kate's face, but was quickly covered by her plastic-looking smile. "Well, we have a few others. Perhaps this one?"

Rogue hadn't known that it was so hard to pick out a dress. The number of designs was simply mind-boggling, and she wasn't used to dressing to show off her figure. Normally she tried to hide it as much as possible. Sure, there was that green outfit she wore when she felt stifled, which revealed a lot while still protecting her skin, but Rogue didn't think of that as dressing for attraction.

The dresses that Salesgirl Kate picked out were horrible. Not that they were ugly -- far from it. It was just she kept picking out things as far from Rogue's normal wardrobe as could be, at least without dipping into the Catholic schoolgirl look. The problem wasn't just that they exposed skin, either; the designs made Rogue feel uncomfortably aware of her horse-faced, clunky body. So what if she had a shapely figure or a big chest? She'd still look like she was playing dress-up next to Jean and Kitty and even Salesgirl Kate.

As the fashion show went on, though, Rogue was forced to feel a grudging admiration for Jean and Kitty . . . even gratitude. She barely had to do anything. Kitty was being energetic and cheerful enough to match Kate, and kept them all looking at various designs. Jean, for her part, was carefully steering Salesgirl Kate away from the most revealing dresses, and kept the girl from getting too close to Rogue.

_Of course, if it weren't for them I wouldn't be here in the first place,_ Rogue thought. _Can't forget that._

"No, a dress with sleeves won't fit your shoulders so well," said Salesgirl Kate. "They're a bit broad. You obviously work out a lot. Nothing really bad about that, of course! It's just hard to get sleeves to fit muscles like yours so well. And you should really show some more chest. There's nothing that wraps the boys around your finger like some good cleavage, and you've got plenty."

Rogue eyed the dress the other girl was holding. She'd never worn anything as revealing as that, but maybe she had a point. _There's not much choice anyway, not with these dresses. And maybe she's right . . ._ _maybe I have to do something to compensate for the way I look normally. I can probably get away with that dress. I'll just have to be careful not to brush up against anyone._

Just as Rogue was about to open her mouth, though, Jean smoothly took the dress from Kate. "Thank you," she said, smiling. "We probably have enough to look at for now. Kitty, do you want to go next?"

"Like, sure thing!" Kitty said, sounding extra-bubbly. She touched Salesgirl Kate's wrist as she slipped by, drawing her to another section of the department. "Come on, I saw this really cute dress over here and I'm just _dying_ to know your opinion . . ."

When the other two girls were gone, Jean looked at Rogue and dropped the smile. "Finally. Sorry about that, Rogue. I didn't know she'd be so . . . pushy. We'd better have you try these while Kitty keeps her occupied." Without looking, Jean replaced Kate's latest choice back on the rack and selected two others with more modest cuts.

Rogue stayed silent as Jean led her to the changing rooms. She glanced over to where Kitty was picking up dress after dress and asking Kate a multitude of questions. _She's distracting her,_ Rogue realized. _So I can try these on without her making any more comments. _

But the damage was done. Rogue looked at herself in the mirror, wearing a black dress that came down below her knees and halfway down her upper arms. _I look like I'm going to a funeral or something,_ Rogue thought.

Rogue shook her head. "This isn't going to work."

"Don't let her get to you," Jean told her. "She doesn't know about your power. She just thinks you're overly modest and she's trying to draw you out."

"It doesn't matter." Rogue frowned and looked down at the dress. "Whether she thinks I'm shy or I'm a Bible-thumpin' prude, she's right. I'm a tomboy an' I look it."

Jean smiled. _Like I'm a little kid that just said something cute_, Rogue thought sourly. "Rogue, maybe with the way you normally dress you could be called a tomboy, but you've got plenty of 'girl' to spare, enough to drive most of the girls at school as green as your eyes." Jean paused, looking at Rogue's face. "Well, as green as they are at other times."

Rogue glanced in the mirror and saw her eyes were grey. She gritted her teeth and looked away again. "See, that's what I'm talkin' about. Freak eyes. Freak everything."

"Oh, come on." Jean showed a trace of a frown. "There's nothing wrong with your eyes. They're unusual, but that's not 'wrong.' Besides, Jeff likes them, you know."

"He does?" For a moment, Rogue looked at her reflection again, but all she saw were the same dull-grey eyes she'd seen most of her teenaged life. They always seemed to be grey when she saw them. Ugly. Hard.

Then Rogue frowned, and her eyes shifted to Jean's reflection. "Wait. How do you know that?"

Jean actually looked embarrassed. "Oh. Well. I . . . I was talking to him."

"You were talking to him . . . about me?" Rogue didn't know whether to laugh at the expression on Jean's face -- _Miss Perfect is actually nervous?_ -- or get on her case about talking behind her back.

"Yeah. Sorry. I was just . . . wanting to know what he thought about . . . you know, stuff." Jean glanced away, one hand reaching up to tuck a loose lock of hair behind one ear. "Anyway, he said it was the first thing he noticed about you. First grey like a . . . katana, I think he said. And then green, 'like grass after a spring shower.'"

"He said that?" _Do my eyes really look that way when I'm happy?_ Rogue tried looking in the mirror again. Her eyes were still grey. She glanced at Jean. _Her eyes are green like that all the time._

"Yeah." Jean grimaced. "I remember, because I was thinking Duncan never said anything about _my_ eyes. Much less my smile."

Rogue frowned. "Now he's telling you about my smile? How come he's telling all this to you?"

"Well . . . I asked him."

"You asked him about what he thought of my smile?"

"No. About . . ." Jean looked away again. "Just about what he was planning. What he thought of you. Just . . . checking."

"Checking?" Rogue scowled. "Ah swear, y'all can't leave me alone!" she said, her accent returning as strong as ever. "Ah can't show the slightest interest in a guy without y'all mother-henning me to death."

Jean blinked. "What?"

Rogue shook her head. "Kitty's been buggin' me about Jeff, Risty's been doing the same about . . . um. Whatever. An' now you're pokin' in on it. It's like Mystique an' Aunt Irene buggin' me about the guys I liked."

"Except we're not trying to keep you from anyone," Jean pointed out. "Mystique was keeping you hidden, but we just want to make certain you're happy."

"No, you want to make me like you," Rogue retorted, gesturing at the mirror. "This isn't me. Or d'you think this is what Jeff wants?"

Jean sighed. "Rogue, I'm not trying to make you like me. Neither is Kitty. We just wanted to give you a chance to do what you never got a chance to do growing up. I know you don't like being reminded of it, but I've been in your head. I know how Irene and Mystique kept you covered up and away from people. Kitty and I just wanted to help you take advantage of your date tonight. That's all.

"And as for Jeff," Jean added, and Rogue was surprised to see her smile widely, "I don't think you have to worry about what he wants. He made that pretty clear yesterday at lunch."

"What do you mean?" Rogue frowned, trying to remember what happened that day.

"Well, Tabitha tried asking him out," Jean told her. "She tried to get him to dump you, using her . . . usual tact. You know how she is. She wouldn't take a hint. Jeff finally ended up saying she was nowhere near as pretty as you were, or even in the same class." She arched one eyebrow, still grinning. "I'm not sure he realized how loud he was at the end."

_He said that?_ Rogue looked at herself in the mirror again. She couldn't see it. Tabitha, for all her trampy behavior, _was_ a looker. Plus she had confidence oozing from every pore, and a natural grace that could probably equal Jean's if Tabitha cared to try. _I'm just a plain-faced klutz with weird eyes._

Abruptly, Rogue remembered what it was like back home in Mississippi. All those nights in her room, knowing her schoolmates were out partying. The only goth at the school, even if she'd been manipulated into becoming one in the first place, and so she was a complete outsider. And she'd liked it. That's what she told herself, anyway.

Then one night she went to a dance anyway, without telling Irene. And even though it turned into a disaster, for a little while she actually felt free. For a moment, she was an ordinary girl.

Then it ended, and she'd resigned herself to being covered up for the rest of her life. Unable to touch people. Unable to be . . . normal.

_Until Jeff came. What's normal for me now?_ Rogue wondered. _To the world I'm still Rogue . . . but to Jeff, can I be Marie again?_

Rogue turned her head to look at Jean. "What other dresses do you have?"

Jean smiled. For the first time, it didn't make Rogue feel patronized.

* * *

With the sun going down, the shadows were quickly filling the abandoned lot. Someone seemed to be using the property as a dumping ground of sorts, leaving it full of junk and debris, getting thicker the further one went. It was full of nooks and crannies, making for a good hiding place.

That was exactly the reason why Jeff wasn't there.

Jeff watched Toad and Blob walk through the junkyard, obviously searching for him. They didn't seem to be putting much effort into it, though. That was fine by him. He wasn't putting much effort into hiding. In fact, if they looked up, they'd probably see him. But no one ever looked up.

His muscles straining with the effort, Jeff finally managed to get to the top of the drainage pipe he'd been climbing. He hooked his fingers into the gutter, pulling carefully to test its strength.

"D'you see anything, Toad?" Blob called out from below.

The gutter seemed strong enough. Jeff put more weight on it, swinging one leg up and over.

"Nah," came Toad's voice. "D'ere ain't even any good flies."

_Please don't tell me "Toad" actually eats flies,_ Jeff thought as he pulled himself up. _That's just taking things too far._

"Man, I hope we find this guy soon," Blob said. Jeff wasn't watching, but he could just imaging the huge teen scratching his mohawk like an idiot. "I'm gettin' hungry."

The gutter creaked under Jeff's weight. Jeff froze.

"Why'd we have to search through here?" Toad grumbled. "Quicksilver could do it faster."

Jeff took a deep breath, then let go of the drainage pipe. The gutter creaked even more.

"Why are we even doing this at all?" Blob returned.

"'Cause that Mav'rick dude needs to be taught a lesson," Toad told him. There was a crash from below, evidently due to their careful searching methods. "I ain't got an argument wit' that."

"I guess not . . ."

One of the rivets popped out, sounding like a gunshot to Jeff. Panicking, he launched himself up onto the roof, flattening himself out on his back so that he was -- hopefully -- out of sight.

"Toad, did'ya hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Dunno. Sounded like someone, though."

"Where?"

"Dunno. Maybe up on the roof, I think."

_Frak, _Jeff thought.

"T'roof? Nah. He can't climb up there."

"Well, why don'tcha check anyway? Even if he ain't there, you can maybe still see him from the roof."

A sudden gust of wind prevented Jeff from hearing Toad's reply. Distracted, he looked up. His eyes narrowed. After a moment, he grunted softly as several details suddenly clicked into place.

"So _that's_ what this is about."

The gutter creaked again. "Okay, okay, I'm goin' already!" Toad shouted.

_Time to think about that later,_ Jeff thought to himself, as he scrambled up into a crouch, scanning the rooftop for some advantage. _But this just became much more than a simple schoolboy brawl._

* * *

Rogue glared at Kitty. "Absolutely not!"

"Oh, come on, Rogue," Kitty wheedled, giggling at her tone. "It couldn't hurt to try!"

"No!" Rogue crossed her arms in front of her chest defensively. "Not gonna happen, Valley-Brat! What good would it do, anyway? It's not like Jeff's gonna see it!"

Kitty seemed strangely unfazed by the look of pure death her roommate was giving her. "Well, no, of course not," she said, giving her a little smile. "The point is to make you feel like a new woman, and nothing does that better than some new--"

"I am not! Getting! A new! Bra!"

Some of Rogue's vehemence seemed to get through this time, because Kitty blinked. "Well, I was actually thinking of a matching set . . ."

"No!" Rogue gritted her teeth. "I have plenty of underwear. And I don't need some frilly pink thing with bows on it to remind me I'm a girl. I see it every time I look in the freakin' mirror!"

[Okay, guys, enough already!]

Rogue "heard" Jean's voice in her head, the same way she could "see" Jean's annoyed expression even though the telepath was in the changing room. It was obvious from the look on Kitty's face that she heard it too.

[Kitty, Rogue picked out a dress. Don't push it.]

Kitty just shrugged, not losing her cheerful look. Rogue, meanwhile, looked down, considering the dress draped over her arm. Kitty had been the one to find it, actually, while she was off distracting Salesgirl Kate. It was a black evening gown, surprisingly fancy for this store and especially the price. Still a bit steep for her normally, but Jean had given the Prof a cranium-call and he'd agreed to advance her allowance for next month. The downside was that she had to do some extra training with him in private, which he'd been after her to do anyway.

The dress had an almost Asian cut to it, with the cloth completely covering her shoulders and the nape of her neck. It showed no cleavage, which Salesgirl Kate had expressed a vague disapproval for, but it had a green vine pattern that accented her bustline. The skirt of the dress was longer on the right, going up just shy of mid-thigh on the left, and the vine pattern wound down the length twice, or perhaps up was a better term.

Jean assured her that the subtle green would help show off Rogue's eyes when she was in a good mood, but Rogue just cared that it covered her enough to make her comfortable. She did her best to ignore the nagging doubts about what Jeff might think of the choice.

"Well, you're going to get some new gloves, right?" Kitty said after a moment.

Rogue looked up again. "Gloves?"

"Well, your usual biker gloves don't exactly match it, y'know."

"Oh, right." Rogue grimaced. Now she'd have to spend some time out looking around thrift shops. Who knows how long _that_ would take.

"You want some gloves?" came Salesgirl Kate's vapid voice as she rounded one of the clothing stacks. She'd been off replacing the rejected dresses from the other girls. Rogue hid a wince. She'd been hoping the blonde would just have disappeared.

"Yeah, some arm-length ones," Kitty said, her equally brainless act in place again. "They would just be _darling_ with that dress, you know? Do you, like, sell those?"

"You mean opera gloves?" Kate asked rhetorically. She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry, we don't."

"Darn." Kitty frowned. "Do you know of anyplace where we could get them?"

Kate looked thoughtful. "Well, there's Hot Topic. I saw a pair in the display case on the way to work today. They were black and I'm sure they'd look great with that."

Rogue made a face. "Anywhere else?" she asked with more than a little sarcasm. "I hate that place. Everyone there's obsessed with vampires these days and think their DeadJournals are edgy."

Kate blinked at Rogue's vehemence. "Not that I know of, no. Claire's has them, but normally only in prom season."

"Well, want to try a Claire's?" Kitty asked, looking coy.

Rogue rolled her eyes. Kitty grinned.

"Thanks, we'll check out Hot Topic when we're done here," Kitty bubbled. "Thanks _so_ much for your help!"

Kate gave Kitty her Barbie-like smile again. "Not a problem! Do you want to ring up now?"

"Oh, Jean's not done yet. We'll wait until she is so we can, like, give her feedback, y'know?"

"Actually, I'm ready," Rogue said quickly. It would get her out of the store and away from Salesgirl Kate. "You guys don't need my help, an' I've still got Jeff's physics book to read over. We didn't have a pop quiz today so it's got to be tomorrow."

"Okay, then!" Salesgirl Kate turned the smile on Rogue, this time probably fueled by the thought of the commission she'd be making off their purchases. Rogue hid another grimace as she followed Kate over to the cash register.

"So is Jeff your boyfriend?" Kate asked as she began entering codes into the machine.

_Why do these places think conversation about private things is necessary?_ "No," Rogue answered curtly. Then she paused. "Well, maybe." She hadn't actually considered it yet. _Can he even be a boyfriend before the first date?_

"Maybe?" Kate quirked an eyebrow at her. For a moment, it was eerily similar to what Jeff did. Then Kate smiled again, spoiling the illusion. Jeff couldn't look that plastic without a poured mold. "You haven't been going out for long, huh?"

"First date," Rogue mumbled, feeling herself blush. Without her makeup she felt like it was showing even more. _Just ring it up already!_

"Oh, so there's a school dance?"

"Yeah," Rogue answered, letting a glare run across her face.

Kate looked momentarily startled, but then busied herself with ringing it up. Rogue swiped the debit card that the Prof had given her for her allowance funds, and signed the slip as fast as she could.

"Well, have a good time!" Kate beamed as she handed the bag over to Rogue. "I'm sure Jeff will be glad you asked him."

Rogue took the bag, but paused. "Wait. How'd you know it was a girls-choice dance?"

Kate seemed to hesitate slightly, though she didn't lose her smile. "Well, I just assumed you were going to Bayville High. I saw the fliers up for the dance."

"Oh, right." Rogue shook her head slightly as she walked away. _Boy, I'm getting jumpy._

She collected her backpack from the dressing rooms and let the other girls know she was going to wait outside on one of the benches. She found a handy one outside next to a fountain and sat down, pulling Jeff's textbook out and paging through it.

A crudely folded piece of paper fell out as she did so. Curious, Rogue picked it up and opened it, expecting it to be some notes from class. She frowned as she read the abysmally bad handwriting inside. Then her eyes widened as she realized that they weren't class notes. It was a note _to_ Jeff.

"Oh . . . frak."

* * *

"Oh, hello, Logan," McCoy said in greeting, looking up from his copy of _The Everlasting Man_. "Has Kurt recovered from the teleportation experiment?" He paused and frowned as he took in the stocky mutant's body-language: hunched-over, clenched fists, chin thrust forward. McCoy sighed to himself. "Is something the matter?"

"The new kid's gotten into my room," Logan snarled. "Where's Chuck? For that matter, where's the kid? He was supposed to be training this afternoon."

"Really? I didn't see anything on the schedule." Not that it really meant anything, McCoy reflected. He had set up a simple program on the faculty network so that each of the instructors could list who was assigned to what, but Logan hardly ever used it.

Logan waved a dismissive hand. "Not official. They were going to practice some armed stuff. Brainiac, Stripes, and the Half-Pint. None of them are around. But Brainiac was here an hour ago. I can still smell him. Do you know where Chuck is?"

"The Professor is down at the Cerebro main console," McCoy said, using a bookmark to save his spot before setting the book down on the coffee table in front of him. Logan turned and stalked down the hallway to the central elevator without another word, but McCoy followed quickly.

"He said there was an odd local reading and wanted to check it out personally," McCoy continued when he had caught up with the other man. They both entered the elevator, Logan as impatient as always. "As for the children, I do know that the girls were off on a shopping expedition. Scott mentioned that Jean had borrowed his car. Do you have any idea why Jeff entered your room?"

"He took the multiweapon." Logan flexed his right hand.

"Oh. I see." McCoy frowned again. "You don't have it locked up?"

"Nah. He got past the booby-trap. What I can't figure out is why he took it like that. He ain't the type to take something just 'cause it's shiny."

"You . . . booby-trap your room?" McCoy asked, as the doors opened.

Logan gave him an almost imperceptible shrug as he stalked out of the elevator. "I like my privacy."

McCoy followed on his heels. "Most people just get a deadbolt."

"I prefer being creative."

"I trust it's nothing lethal?"

"Let's just say that you'll be able to tell if anyone's tripped it."

"I see." McCoy's mouth twitched in amusement.

Logan paused to let the retinal scanner confirm his identity and stepped through the vault-like doors that guarded the entrance to Cerebro's core the moment they opened.

The Cerebro core was a giant spherical chamber buried beneath the west end of the Institute grounds. It was designed to amplify and direct telepathic powers, allowing the user to greatly extend his range. McCoy was still attempting to understand the exact nature of the device. It was a highly advanced piece of technology, far beyond anything he had ever seen.

The central console was at the midpoint of the sphere, at the end of the walkway he and Logan were now walking down. At the console, the control helmet already over his head, sat Xavier. The screens in front of him were flickering with information and shadowed images.

"Yes, Logan, I know," Xavier said softly. Logan didn't comment; he hardly needed to, since it was very hard for Xavier to block out other thoughts when he was using Cerebro directly. "I'm sure he had good reason, however. Or what he thought was good reason."

"Yeah." Logan snorted. "That's the usual thing kids say."

"Actually, I suspect it to be an interesting explanation," Xavier replied. A holographic screen sprang to life in front of them, showing a map of the city. A particular section was glowing, almost a half-mile across. "I've been detecting spikes of mutant power somewhere in this area, but it is surprisingly difficult to pin down. Cerebro suspects it to be the Brotherhood boys, and I've already confirmed that none of them are at their usual residence."

"And you think Jeff might be involved?" McCoy asked.

"The timing is . . . interesting," Xavier replied. "However, I've been running a diagnostic on Cerebro to find out if it's malfunctioning."

"Not likely," Logan grunted. "That part of town has the old ironworks, where Sumo-Boy tried romancin' Jean. Good place for an uninterrupted discussion."

Xavier nodded. "Logan, just in case, would you--"

"Already on it, Chuck," Logan said, walking back out of the Cerebro core. "Since when do I bother waiting for permission?"

* * *

Toad pulled himself to the top of the roof and looked around. The building was made up of several sections, with the roof sloping in different areas. Jeff watched him from behind one of the roof sections, hidden beneath an old air compressor.

Toad scratched his head. "He ain't up here!" he called out. "Mehbe he left already!"

"But Quicksilver woulda seen him, right?" Blob replied, his voice echoing slightly off of the building.

"Maybe he sneaked over the fence -- look, I can see his motorbike! He must have left it behind!" Toad sounded excited.

_Frak. Didn't hide that thing as well as I thought I did,_ Jeff thought. _Still, maybe they'll give up now._

"Hey, I got an idea, Blob," Toad yelled. "Smash his bike to bits! That'll teach him, right?"

"Hey . . . good idea." Blob suddenly sounded a lot happier than he had been a few seconds before. "Where is it?"

Jeff felt the blood drain out of his face. _Smash Dad's bike? _

He stood up, climbing over the roof as Toad directed Blob to where he'd hidden his Ninja. Jeff very deliberately reached out and tapped Toad on the shoulder.

Toad screamed and flipped around, falling to his back. Absently, Jeff realized he must be striking a suitably dramatic pose, silhouetted against the setting sun. He hardly cared, however; he simply reached down, grabbed Toad's stupid-looking suit by the collar, and hauled him up.

"I don't like it when people mess with my bike," Jeff said quietly. He punched Toad with his left fist. Toad was yelling for help, but Jeff ignored it. "It belonged to my father, see." He punched him again.

"Stop it! Look, I surrender, yo!" Toad was flailing his arms, trying to fend off Jeff's attack. "Hey, we didn't mean it, we was just havin' some fun, you know?"

"Really?" Jeff snarled. "So that's why you decided to ambush me three-to-one? Lots of fun." He dropped Toad to the roof's surface, disgusted with the way things had gone. _This whole thing is ridiculous. I mean, I can tell why they wanted to attack, but why bother pretending? This whole thing is staged like a test. It's obvious now._

Toad made a hawking sound, catching Jeff's attention; he looked down just in time to catch Toad's impossibly long tongue in his face.

"What the frak!" Jeff stumbled back a step, wiping his face and spitting out the sticky, slimy residue that Toad left. It stuck to his glasses, blinding him. He tried taking them off, but his fingers slipped on the slime.

"Ha!" Toad shouted. Jeff could hear him scrambling to his feet. "Got you now!"

Toad slammed into Jeff, who stumbled again at the impact. He got his glasses off just in time to see that he'd run out of roof. His foot came down on empty air, and the only purchase his flailing hands found was the front of Toad's silly-looking jumpsuit.

They both fell.

* * *

Rogue rushed back into the store and found Jean and Kitty back at the changing rooms. Jean, sensing Rogue's agitation, looked up with a concerned expression.

Kitty followed her gaze. "Rogue! I thought you were waiting . . . outside?" She trailed off as Rogue thrust the note she'd found into her face.

"Look at this!" Rogue snapped. "Your boyfriend left this for Jeff and I just found it in his physics book."

"Lance?" Kitty took the note, too surprised to raise an objection about what status their relationship really had. "'Maverick,'" she read out loud, "'sory about before, but I had to keep up appearances. I think you might be right, but I couldnt let the Brotherhood know. Their not big on traitors. Meat me at the old ironworks at 5 tonite. Lance.'"

"That's not good," Jean said quietly.

"Not good?" Rogue glared. "It's obviously a trap! Jeff said something came up and he wouldn't have been able to do the practice with us anyway. I should have asked what. He doesn't know what he's getting into! He didn't even know about you-know-what last week. He probably thinks he can take them hand-to-hand but he's never practiced fighting powers!"

"Rogue!" Jean hissed, looking around.

"You're right that it's a trap," Kitty said, looking up from the note. "But this isn't Lance's handwriting. And he knows how to spell better than this!"

"Alright, I'm going to tell the Professor." Jean closed her eyes, took a steadying breath, and let it out slowly. Rogue and Kitty waited expectantly, but with speed-of-thought communication it didn't take long at all for them to hear an echo of the Professor's voice, channeled through Jean.

[What Jean just told me confirms our suspicions, X-Men,] Xavier said, his voice faint like it was coming from the next room. His use of the team name let the girls know that he considered this serious. [I suggest you leave as quickly as possible. Jeff may well need assistance. Wolverine is already on his way.]

[You already knew, Professor?] Jean asked, her voice sounding much stronger. [How?]

[Cerebro. Also, Jeff took Forge's invention from Logan's room,] Xavier replied. His mental voice seemed to reverberate in a chuckle as Kitty and Rogue shared a surprised glance. [No; unlike Bobby and Tabitha, he did not run afoul of Logan's "gifts."]

Rogue couldn't help but smirk.

[Regardless, X-Men, be careful. Follow Wolverine's lead, and do not engage unless attacked first. I suspect there is more to this situation than may first appear.]

"Oh, come on, it's just the Brotherhood," Rogue grumbled. "And can't Kurt just 'port us there? He's been there before."

[Kurt is currently . . . indisposed,] Xavier told her. [The second test with Forge took a lot out of him.]

[Of course, Professor.] Jean opened her eyes. "Kitty, come on, we need to buy these quickly."

"What?" Rogue's mouth dropped open. "You're still concerned about dresses?"

"If we leave too quickly, the saleswoman will remember it," Jean pointed out. "Low profile above all. Besides, it won't waste any time." She fished in her purse and pulled out a set of keys, which she tossed to Rogue. "Here. Get Scott's car and meet us at the front entrance to the mall."

Rogue caught the keys, looking at them skeptically. "You don't think Scott will pitch a fit about someone other than you driving his fancymobile?"

Jean smirked over her shoulder as she walked away. It wasn't a pleasant expression. "So don't tell him. Or do. It might be funny."

Rogue blinked. "That was weird."

Kitty leaned in, her voice low. "Um, Taryn asked Scott to the dance. He said yes."

"What?" Rogue momentarily forgot the emergency. "That's . . ." She shook her head, at a loss for words. Part of her felt funny about that. Another was secretly glad at Jean's loss. Of course, she had Jeff now . . .

Which brought her mind back to current events. "The Gossip Girls TV hour has been rescheduled, Valley-Brat," Rogue said, scowling at Kitty before turning away. "You guys better be there when I pull up or I might leave without you."

* * *

Kate, the college-aged saleswoman who had been helping the three girls, watched Jean and Kitty leave in a hurry. She lost her characteristic too-wide smile and assumed a scowl instead.

_So. Pietro set a little trap for McGovern and it seems McGovern walked right into it._ Mystique crossed her arms, considering things. _It's possible that I underestimated him . . . he _is_ only seventeen, and could well be suffering from delusions of invulnerability like most children his age. On the other hand . . . I'm rarely wrong when it comes to people. _

_ Magneto. He must be orchestrating it. Or rather, telling his son to put it together. It's a test. _Mystique resumed Kate's pleasant expression as she began walking to the back of the store. _I hope for my Marie's sake that he's strong enough to pass. I can't help him if Magneto's there._

Though "Kate" gave no outward sign of it, Mystique mentally sighed. To think she had gone to the effort of finding an appropriate dress for Marie, slipping it onto the display rack here, and faking a price for it within Marie's means; and then subduing and impersonating one of the employees just to make certain that the girls would find it; all of that, and McGovern had to be impulsive or gullible enough to walk into a situation that might leave him unable to take her Marie on her first-ever date.

Stepping into one of the storage rooms, Mystique indulged herself and shifted back to her normal form. She sighed for real this time, leaning against a pile of boxes. _If only Erik hadn't found us_, she thought, not for the first time. _I could have raised Marie properly, been there as a mother should. But no, it's back to this stupid war of his. Even in "death" I can't escape it._

She took a deep breath and straightened again. _No use dwelling on the past. I might as well wish for Kurt as well. Both my children think ill of me, when I've only ever done my best for them. I can only watch over them from the shadows now. _Mystique scowled. _Xavier and Magneto . . . If I can remove them, I must. For the sake of my children._

_To Be Continued . . ._

_

* * *

  
_

**Author's Note**

Not a whole lot to say about this chapter, which feels weird because it gave me so much trouble. It's hard to make shopping _interesting_. I wanted to do it, though. I'm one of those authors who likes torturing his characters, and the thought of Rogue going dress-shopping was irresistible. It's so far outside her comfort zone as to obliterate all traces of it.

Those of you who were perhaps a little confused as to what's happening with the rest of the team, keep in mind that this is taking place _during_ an episode. It might help to go watch it and match things up, with the caveat that anything sparked by Jeff's presence in Bayville (such as the girls going shopping together) wouldn't be in the show. The full series can be found on Hulu.

My one and only beta reader for this chapter expressed doubts about two points, so I'll address them here; I'd tried to rewrite it, but it just came off as infodumping -- and I hate infodumping.

The first was the subject of Hot Topic. Rogue is not, I repeat not, a "real" goth. She doesn't dress that way or act that way. I think the creators of the show didn't quite get the difference. Rogue would, however, share the same goth tendency towards individuality and creating her own look rather than buy something off a shelf. This isn't shown much in the show, of course, due to a typical tendency to keep characters in the same or similar outfits for easy recognition.

This brings us to Hot Topic. For those who don't know what it is, it _used_ to be a good place to go to for goth fashion. Not the end product, exactly, but it was okay. Now it's over-commercialized, like a darker, more brooding version of the typical mall-crawler's hangout. Rogue has a carefully cultivated disdain for the store. Don't tell her I said so, but she can be pretty elitist.

The other issue is Mystique. My beta reader felt she was becoming too sympathetic. My interpretation of the character, however, is based on what I saw in the show. (Perhaps I'll write up a full explanation and analysis of her character on some future date.) Mystique didn't want to work for Magneto, and got out as quickly as possible. The only things she ever seemed to care for were either her children or revenge; as she is a born, amoral manipulator, she would think nothing of giving her children whatever advantages she can get them. She has no other way of expressing love. It's like something out of a Shakespearean tragedy, really.

Stay tuned for more mayhem sometime after the new year. I'll try to hurry it up. I can't leave Maverick hanging like that -- after all, he's only got so far to fall. ;)

As always, keep the reviews coming! Let me know what you like.


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